


Brand of a Dreamer

by impish_nature



Series: Brand of a Dreamer [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Gen, Reconciliation, The Mindscape, spoilers for latest episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending and Stanford Pines has a choice to make. With his family splitting at the seams along with the rift, it seems Bill has other plans to keep him and his family occupied.</p><p>But when it's his mistake that leaves Stanley fighting for his life and sanity in the mindscape, it's only him that's around to help him. </p><p>And he can't really leave him there to fend for himself...can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Make the right choice

**Author's Note:**

> OK this has all come about from an awesome fanart piece that I will credit and show later but it might spoil what is to come if I do. Also this was meant to be a short thing that as usual has gotten larger and larger as I planned it and I want to try and get it all done before the next episode is up @.@
> 
> PS: I haven't written in ages, so sorry if this is not my best piece, please enjoy xxx

There was a moment of silence as the rift tore through the sky. The calm before the storm as everything seemed to fall away into nothingness.

Or that’s how Ford felt as he stared up into the darkening red sky.

“MABEL!”

Reality crashed back to him, the ringing silence in his ears popping back into the sounds of terror and destruction going on around them. He spun to see Dipper, his eyes panicked as he tried to track where the rift had opened, knowing his twin would be at its epicentre. A niggling voice whispered in his ear that she was to blame for all of this but another stronger voice knew they’d all had their part to play in Bill’s plan.

“Dipper, where is she?”

Ford blinked, feeling like everything around him was moving too fast and too slowly at the same time. He just couldn’t seem to grasp the situation. This should never have happened. He’d planned for everything. He watching his brother appear from the shack at Dipper’s shout, his bat and knuckledusters ready as if he could – would take on anything to keep them safe. Even in this situation he couldn’t help but scoff at him, his usual disdain for the other man showing through. What was he thinking? His brawn would do nothing against the inhuman creatures coming through the portal. How could his twin be so different?

He watched, still silent as Stan shook Dipper, vaguely listening to him while trying to process the best course of action they should be taking at the same time.

“Dipper? Dipper!” Stan shook him again, trying to stop him from going into overload. “I don’t care what has happened, or how it’s happened. We can talk about _that_ later. Just tell me where she is and let’s go get her.”

“We’ve got more important things to be dealing with.” Ford felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere around him, zoning back into the conversation as he realised he’d spoken aloud. He gulped as the silence seemed to engulf him again, his mind freezing at the identical looks of horror on his twin and nephews faces. He hadn’t meant to say that, even if it was true. The world was ending, Mabel could wait. He should have known better than to say it though with emotions running high.

“More important…?”

A pang of guilt went through him at the look of betrayal on his nephews face before he felt his feet leave the ground, his brother lifting him up by his collar.

“Don’t you ever- _ever_ say that again.” Stan’s glare was a force to be reckoned with in that moment, even as his hands shook around Ford’s collar. “I am going to go protect my family and I’m pretty sure Dipper’s coming with me. But you? _You_ can do what you want.”

Ford tutted, locking away the emotions that had threatened to surface at their expressions. He needed to be calm and collected, to think everything through. There was no time for this! “Stanley, we need to figure out a way to get that rift closed. I’m trying to save the world here!”

“And I’m trying to save mine.” Stan shrugged, dropping him to the floor without a thought. “I’m selfish, remember?”

“There’ll be no point to saving her if we can’t get that rift closed.”

“Yeah well, I don’t want to think about a world without my twin.” Dipper broke in, his hands shaking, but his gaze strong. Ford couldn’t help but notice the parallel between him and Stan at that moment, even though earlier that day he had been so sure Dipper was more like him.

“ _Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite family. Thanks for the help, guys.”_

“You! Where is she? Where’s Mabel?” Dipper shot forward, stumbling as Bill rose out of his way.

_“Good to see you too, Pine tree. I’d go help shooting star if I were you though. She seems to have…fallen.”_

“Wait, Dipper! If he wants you to go, it must be a trap.” Ford couldn’t believe it when he was ignored, Dipper plunging into the dark forest without another second’s hesitation. Why was no one listening to him? Why weren’t they understanding what was at risk here? He glared at his old ‘friend’, wondering how he could have ever believed that this _thing_ was really helping him.

 _“Sorry sixer but I think Pine tree’s made up his mind.”_ Bill floated back down in front of him, hands behind him and legs crossed; the picture of relaxation. _“I mean it’s not like you can do anything about the whole apocalypse thing, might as well do what you want, am I right?”_ He closed his eye for a second before opening it again, eyebrow raised. _“Come on, relax~ Have some fun. It’s the end of the world as you know it. Might as well get used to it now and have some fun.”_

“I can stop you. I will you know.” Ford stood up straight, facing off against the demon and ignoring its laughter.

_“You? Come on, you think you can do it all by yourself? You’ve probably alienated the only people that could help you fix this mess, sixer.”_

“Help? I don’t need help to take you down.” Ford frowned, puzzled. He always came up with a plan, what use was anyone else unless they were following it? He felt Stan shift beside him but didn’t turn to look. Whatever he was doing wasn’t important anyway.

 _“If you say so.”_ Bill shrugged, sitting back up. _“But you’re running out of time so hop to whatever you’re going to do. I can’t wait to watch you run around in circles.”_ Bill laughed again, turning towards the trees as he spoke. _“Tick tock sixer, save the world or save the family? You won’t be able to do both-”_

Ford jumped as he watched Stan lunge forward, baseball bat in hand. He reached for his gun, his mind already shouting at him that Bill couldn’t be hurt in the physical world. The shout of how idiotic Stan was being fell flat on his tongue as the bat connected with it’s mark and sent Bill reeling backwards in the air a few meters. A hand flew to his face as he came to a halt, eye widening in shock as he surveyed Stan with a silent stare for once.

“Hah!” Stan grinned, a small wince showing through that he tried to shake off, one arm on his shoulder. Ford watched in a small amount of awe, wondering how much force he’d put behind the swing to have hurt himself. “Maybe you should have thought about the consequences of a physical body you floating triangle.”

 _“Wow, gotta hand it to you there Fez, that was some clever thinking for a knucklehead.”_ There was an odd edge to Bill’s movements that Ford didn’t miss. The demon was trying to act nonchalant but obviously what Stan had done had unnerved him. _“I’m impressed, you shouldn’t even be able to move…”_

It was at that moment that Ford processed that something was very very wrong.

Why hadn’t Stanley gone straight after Dipper?

Why had he stayed behind after his outburst?

“Stanley?” Ford stepped towards his brother as he wobbled slightly, his arm tightening around his shoulder with a small whimper of pain. Ford dove forward, as his brother fell to one knee, catching him before he fell entirely. He gasped as smoke escaped through Stan’s fingers, before trying to pull the hand away to check his shoulder. “What have you done?” Ford turned back to his brother. “What’s he doing, Stan?”

“I don’t know.” The voice came through gritted teeth. “It feels like I’m fighting to move my body, and now i-it burns.”

 _“You know, you can’t trick a conman. Fez here would have never made a deal with me, unlike you and the rest of your family but thankfully I don’t need to try anymore. You gave me everything I needed.”_ Bill cackled as he stared at Ford’s horrified and confused expression. _“You don’t remember giving me your brother as part of our deal?”_

Ford felt more than saw the way Stan’s body froze up at Bill’s words, as if the last piece of his hope had shattered. He tried to push himself away from Ford, slumping onto the grass beside him as best he could but Ford wouldn’t let him go entirely. “W-What? I never- I would never.” He felt Stan go limp in his arms. “Stan? Stan! What did you do? I never made any deal concerning my brother.”

 _“I know, but now he’s got that little seed of doubt in his head. Though you didn’t care what happened to him. Otherwise you might have been a bit more concerned by the symbol you branded into him.”_ Bill slid over, appraising the now visible burn on Stan’s shoulder with a keen eye. All the work that Stan had put into getting the burn to heal and then slowly vanish into a less noticeable scar had now been made obsolete, the burn bubbling up as if I t had only just been branded there. _“I had kind of hoped you or that assistant of yours would have burned yourselves on it but it all worked out better in the end. He’s a lot more trouble than you give him credit for.”_

“Stan is-” Ford couldn’t finish the sentence, his hand tightening on his brother’s prone form. His brother had always ruined everything, surely he wasn’t a threat to Bill? “I didn’t mean- what are you going to do with him?”

Bill shrugged, suddenly seeming bored with the situation. _“Whatever I feel like doing. What does it matter to you, sixer? I thought you were going to stop me? Surely you’re not going to go sentimental now, are you? What has he ever done for you?”_

He could feel the trap in his words as he flew off. There was no time. No time to look for the twins, no time to help his brother. There was so much at stake. But he could also feel his brother’s body shaking through his arms. He could see the damage that he had caused burning brightly in his skin, the smell of burning short circuiting his brain from anything other than ‘help him’.

And wasn’t that what his brother had always tried to do for him?

He could still feel the budding resentment, the thoughts of what Stan had cost him throughout his life. But his brother had spent years trying to rectify it, even knowing what it could do to them all. He wondered if now knowing the consequences, whether Stan would have ever opened the portal again.

He tried to shake the thought but he already knew the answer.

He sighed, looking around when the mystery shack caught his eye. Whatever happened, he couldn’t leave his brother here. At least the wards around the shack should still hold. He dragged his brother towards it, his mind already hoping that Bill’s hold would stop as soon as he went over the threshold. He waited with baited breath as he made it inside, his heart panicking when Stan seemed smaller than he always did, his face twisted in pain and fear. He’d always been so brave in front of everyone, never wanting them to worry.

Ford spun around, grabbing the things he’d need to enter the mindscape, all previous thoughts forgotten as he started putting it all together. A voice started to shout at him as he sat down that this was all a trap. One designed by Bill to keep him preoccupied. He didn’t tune it out, sitting for a second before setting his watch. He’d had enough troubles with the demon before that he’d modified it, making sure that no matter what situation he was in in the mindscape, his alarm would wake him up, out of whatever nightmare he was in. Unfortunately it didn’t mean that the dreams went by any quicker, time moved slowly in the mindscape.

“Right, knucklehead. I’ve got a deadline to meet, the world’s ending and you’re sleeping on the job.”


	2. Tarnished innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks for the amazing response o.o Kudos and bookmarks and more people following me on tumblr (as well as more notes than I've ever had before on a post).
> 
> Thanks for helping me stop worrying a bit, I threw the chapter up and ran away from my pc for a while ♥ I haven't written in a good few months ^^;;
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one ♥

 Ford took a deep breath as he landed with a soft thud in Stan’s mindscape. He didn’t know what to think of the towering form of the mystery shack that was crumbling in on itself. “That can’t be a sudden development, it would look more shattered, less desolate…decrepit.” He muttered to himself, glancing every which way. It showed how much the mystery shack had taken over Stan’s life once Ford had gone – both as a promise to get him back through the portal and the life he had started to live on his own.

And here he was about to take it all away from him at the end of the summer.

Ford shook his head. Now was not the time to think about that. Besides, it was his house. Stan had taken his life, he wanted it back. He stopped at a creaking sound, his stomach dropping nauseously at the small swing set visible in the distance. Unlike the rest of the monotone world it looked like it had been fairly well kept until recently; the metal was dented and buckled but one of the swings still swung ominously. There was no rust, he had held on to that memory until fairly recently.

He didn’t think that Bill had had anything to do with that particular memory being tarnished.

Ford’s face fell, his own resentment pouring through. What did he care if he’d tarnished Stan’s childhood memories? Stan had done that forty years ago when he betrayed him. If only he had just been proud of him instead of ruining the chance he had to make it in the world.

Movement caught his eye and he found himself forming a weapon on instinct. In this world he could fight whatever came at him, as long as he believed he could. He walked forward slowly, ignoring the door to the distorted mystery shack opening and closing in a non-existent wind that made it thud against the wall, instead focusing on the small shape just on the porch, moving around erratically. It wasn’t until he was close that he recognised him. “Stanley?”

The small boy turned around, face confused as he took in Ford, taking a step back from him. “What are you doing here? Who are you?” He eyed him suspiciously, like he would a stranger talking to him or his brother on the street.

Ford let the weapon dissipate, throwing up his hands in a placating matter. This wasn’t a memory, they were set up differently. Each person had a different way of storing them but they didn’t just run around their mindscape haphazardly. Obviously this had Bill’s handiwork all over it, he’d broken something, but Ford wasn’t sure how to fix it. “Hey, hey, sorry. It’s me, it’s Ford.”

“Who?”

Ford froze, the look on his brother’s face was something he wished he could un-see. There was a sneering rage shining in the small boy’s eyes, something he had never seen on the real Stanley, even after the portal incident but especially not as a child. “Who? I’m your brother, Stanley. I know I look different, but-”

“No, you’re not him. I’d know.” Stan growled, stepping back. “You’re not him! You’re not my brother. He doesn’t hate me! He trusts me.”

Ford felt his heart pang but he couldn’t quite discern the emotion. Fear? Anger? Betrayal? All he knew was that it hurt to see the few memories when his brother and he had been thick as thieves reduced to nothing by their later actions. He couldn’t even react quickly enough as the boy shoved passed him into the shack.

“Leave me alone, sixer! I don’t need you.”

 _Sixer_. The word jolted Ford back to the task at hand. “Stan, wait!” He rose up, running after him into the mystery shack just to see the boy at the other end of the corridor slamming a door behind him that ricocheted back towards the wall with the force. There was a dark substance filling the doorway that blocked off the view of wherever the boy had gone. Ford walked in slower after that, not risking what else could happen, his nerves shot already. There were numerous doors boarded up on either side of him; memories that Bill had shut off, though he was sure he could hear laughter and music bubbling from a few of them. He winced, wondering what things Bill was making Stan relive by boarding up the better memories. At least he knew where he was going. There was only one door open to him, but he was sure it wouldn’t just be one memory he’d have to walk through to find the real Stan.

Ford reached the doorway with little hassle, prodding the dense liquid that seemed to fill it in the hopes that something would happen. All it did, however, was cause a ripple effect. “Going in blind then…” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and took the plunge through the liquid.

He almost fell on the other side when the floor shifted beneath him.

Ford opened his eyes, one hand going to the floor as he found himself crouched to get his balance back. His hand felt gritty as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he’d found himself in. “Sand?” He glanced around, blinking in the triangle of light that appeared at one end, the beach outside almost too bright to see. He got back to his feet, pressing his hand against the wall he had just come out of before. “Huh, won’t be going back that way then.”

“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Ford jolted at the voice, moving without thinking towards it. He had to follow the memories.

“Eww, what is wrong with you?” The voices were faint but there was only one path he could take.

He found himself in a vaguely familiar cavern, two small figures before him brimming in excitement at the shipwreck they’d found. Ford looked at it with a new scrutiny. How on earth had they thought that thing would ever be sailable? At least he had grown out of this silly little dream unlike his brother.

“You know what this ne-” Ford flinched as the small Stan saw him, the memory disrupted as he glared viciously, his small hands tightening into fists. “I-I told you to leave me alone!” He darted away from him again, jumping on to the small boat and much to Ford’s shock, vanished without a trace.

“Stan? Where'd you go?”

Ford glanced down at his younger form who was shuffling backwards away from him, fear on his face.

“Who are you?”

“I’m-” Ford shook his head, stopping himself from engaging. There was no time and besides, he’d only make it worse probably. He just hoped his disruption into the memory was temporary. Unlike the mystery shack mindscape, this world wasn’t monotone, he didn’t want to change that even if it _was_ Stan’s fault that their relationship had been ruined. He liked to think back on these memories fondly sometimes too. Though they always had a twinge of bitterness to them, whereas Stan’s memory still seemed innocent. He made his way to the boat, the floor of which turned out to be another black viscous portal.

“Wait, where’s my bro gone? What did you do to him?”

Ford ignored his own childhood voice and the shiver it sent down his spine as he vaulted the boat’s frame and dove straight into the portal.

 

* * *

 

“Oh no.” Ford glared at the scene before him, anger bubbling through him as he found himself outside their high school, the sun setting behind it and knew exactly what he would see. “Good, maybe reliving this memory will make Stan see how much he betrayed me.” He just wished he didn’t have to see it again himself. Though at least he’d be able to see exactly what Stan had done to his machine.

His eyes caught movement, noting Stan walking into the high school and followed with brisk steps. “Might as well get this over with.” He followed far enough behind this time, not wanting to disrupt the memory again.

He sidled into the darkened gym hall, keeping to the darker shadows so Stan wouldn’t see him. If he wasn’t so resentful of this scene he might have applauded Stan for not turning any lights on and giving himself away to anyone wandering passed the school.

“This is all your fault, you dumb machine!”

Ford watched, waiting for the fated moment that Stan would intentionally sabotage him and felt his eyes widen in shock as Stan punched the table in anger instead of the machine. It did little to stop the vibrations that knocked the small panel off the side unfortunately.

“Oh, no, no, no, what did I do?”

Ford carried on watching, his mind slowly ticking over as Stan panicked. So it had been an accident and he _had_ tried to fix it. He shook himself, a steely glare forming. He could have done something though; called him, let him know something had happened. Given him enough time to fix it before the judges came in the morning. Anything but try to just fix it himself and hope for the best.

The scene around him seemed to melt into the floor as Stan shiftily looked around before running for it. He panicked for a second, wondering what was happening before he found himself back in their childhood living room.

“This was no accident, Stan. You did this!”

“Did I really sound like that?” Ford muttered to himself, watching the bubbling betrayal on his younger self, the broken trust he had felt at the time. He watched the fallout, feeling disconnected from it all. This had been so long ago and yet it had torn everything apart.

“I can explain, it was a mistake!”

Ford knew that now but his younger self would not be reasoned with and he couldn’t help but wince as his brother was dragged away by their father. It was funny really, looking back and noticing that his father didn’t care about his dreams at all, he had just wanted the money Ford could have made. Stan would have been proud of him whatever he did, he had just needed time to adjust.

He scoffed as his father threw Stan out, how his terms were that Stan would only be allowed back if he could make a fortune. “No wonder he’s so hell bent on gold and- oh.” His face fell, his stomach churning at the revelation; Stan had just wanted to be able to come home and it had permeated all of his decisions from then onwards. Maybe even subconsciously once it was apparent things would never change he had still hoped money was the way to fix everything.

Ford watched as Stan took one more look at his childhood home before driving away, a void opening up that swallowed the car with him inside to whatever the next memory would be. He couldn’t help but think that Stan had seen him again and just like the other incarnations had not wanted to speak to him. Didn’t trust him.

He hesitated before he followed Stan this time, the words he had spoken upon entering this memory reverberating back at him.

_“Good, maybe reliving this memory will make Stan see how much he betrayed me.”_

His mouth went dry, wondering just how many times Stan had relived this memory when he lost everyone he cherished to one little mistake that had had huge consequences for all of them.

The little voice in his head that he kept ignoring, reared its ugly head.

_He accidentally hurt you. You fully intended to hurt him back. Who betrayed who exactly?_

Ford silenced the voice, ignoring its rebukes at him. This had been Stan’s fault not his. He wouldn’t be blamed for his brother’s idiocy by his own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford's still being dumb, but don't worry. I think there are cracks appearing.
> 
> Just in case - I only used lines from the show that I thought were important and skipped the rest.
> 
> PS: I work full time so it may not be every day updates, sorry x I just couldn't resist after you were all so lovely ♥


	3. Icy Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still loving you all. You're amazing. I finished this at midnight and passed out, now at work sleepy but quickly getting this up because I'm having far too much fun writing this ♥
> 
> This Chapter almost got called 'Separation's Toll' - just titbit of information haha as I sit half asleep trying to debate which was best.
> 
> Oh I forgot! Feel free to come visit me at impishnature.tumblr.com (my writing blog, or michi-nii.tumblr.com for my everything blog)

A full body shiver shuddered its way through Ford as he slipped into the next memory. He wrapped his arms round himself tightly, watching with surprise as his breath ghosted out in front of him, the cold settling into his chest. This was unusual to say the least. Usually the memories visual changed based on the emotions concerned within them but nothing that would actually affect a traveller going through them. As he’d already seen; Stan’s childhood memories had been brightly coloured whereas that last memory had lost some colour, the moonlight silvering everything to a similar tone in the darkened gym hall that hadn’t vanished once they reappeared in the artificial light of their old living room. This world wasn’t much different to the last in that dismal aspect; a thick blanket of snow covered the world in white against the dark night sky. Though there were no street lights there were no stars for him to see when he glanced above. But it was this _cold_ that really worried him. For it to affect him wandering through the memory, it must be a strong part of this particular recollection.

He stomped through the snow, ignoring the fact that it was not seeping, cold and wet into his boots as would be expected but instead just added to the freezing temperatures until he took another step and started the process again.

This icy wasteland was beginning to unnerve him. He had no standard with which to set it against, this was the start of the life Stan had had that he hadn’t been a part of.

Ford licked his lips, regretting it as soon as the wind blistered against them. But his mouth was suddenly dry. He had never really wondered what his brother had done in the 10 years before he called him. Or just how quickly his brother had come running when he had finally got back in touch. All he’d cared about was making sure the portal would never be opened again, even as Stan had shouted about the things he’d been through. He couldn’t even remember what he had said. Then again, he still held on strong to the thought that the portal had been the most important thing to deal with that day.

And look how trusting his brother to be useful for once had turned out for him.

Before the thoughts could get worse, a splash of colour in the world tore him away from them. A dark red shape was enveloped thickly in the blanket of snow. It was still recognisable from the last memory, though he would have probably recognised it anyway once he was closer. Stan had loved that car when they were teenagers.

He slipped over to the window, worried he would disrupt the memory too soon but with such a small area of focus it would be hard not to. He gave a sigh of relief when he realised he didn’t need to worry so much. Stan was turned away from him, curled up in the front car seat with the backrest pushed as far back as it would go, obviously trying to sleep. The only reason Ford still was cautious as he stepped closer was knowing that this memory would be different if Stan was actually asleep.

He couldn’t stop his arm reaching forward, almost touching the glass as he noticed that Stan was shaking. He had what looked like every article of clothing he owned draped over him in an attempt to keep warm but it seemed to be having no effect against the icy wind that whistled through the cracks into the car.

Ford could only hope that the memory hadn’t been dulled for him, the thought of it being any frostier made him marvel at Stan’s survival.

Stan fidgeted, blowing on his hands as he turned over. Ford stood stock still, waiting for him to turn back but it seemed Stan had other thoughts in mind. With obvious annoyance at the cold he pulled something down from the sun visor to try and distract himself that Ford couldn’t see. Unfortunately as Stan had moved to grab it, he saw Ford standing outside, who cursed inwardly that he’d frozen in place with his hand still reaching for the door.

Stan grit his teeth and Ford was sure he heard a small growl through the car door before Stan was quickly dragging himself into the backseats.

“Stan, will you just wait for one second?” Ford cursed again, loudly this time as he opened the front door and saw the usual ooze waiting for him near the rear window. As he crouched onto the front seat his knee crushed something that made him pull back.

Staring back at him was the smiling faces of an old family photograph, the same one he had taken to college with him. Except now, with shaking hands, he couldn’t get rid of the creases he’d just made in it and dropped it out of his sight to get away from the reminder.

Ford felt nauseous as he crawled into the back of the car, passed what would appear to be all his brother’s worldly possessions. It felt wrong to touch any of this, he had no right.

He’d forfeited that when he’d let their father kick him out.

 

* * *

 

A small sound of relief left him as the frostbitten world vanished in the next memory. The heat travelling back through him, his fingers and toes almost tingling at the respite. A familiar sound filled the air that Ford had trouble placing. Like a word on the tip of his tongue that just wouldn’t come to him. He followed the sound, glancing around himself as he did so to get a grip on the world he was now in. The barred rooms and windows made it fairly obvious as to what kind of place he was in and if he was honest he wasn’t all that surprised if Stan had been in a facility like this on more than one occasion. The sound echoed again, a lot closer this time and he managed to hear his brother’s voice stuttering through it.

The unplaceable sound suddenly hit him like a hammer to the chest.

It was Stan’s laughter. When was the last time he had heard the genuine mirth Stan used to hold?

Ford took a peek around the corner, noting his brother and others in bright orange jumpsuits. Stan had the biggest grin on his face, the kind of look Ford used to know meant he was up to no good. He slipped down the wall, staying out of sight. This felt like as good a memory as any to rest in while it took its course, the sound of his brother’s odd glee alleviating the weird heavy feeling that had started to press around his heart. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as his brother continued to chuckle away.

Only Stan could get himself arrested and not have the decency to even act ashamed at it.

“Ok, ok, seriously, what are you in for?”

“I killed a man.”

Ford locked up at his brothers words, a small silence following from the others as well.

“Oh come on, don’t act so seriously.” One of the inmates shouted as Stan went back to roaring with laughter. He obviously hadn’t been able to keep his face straight.

“Well come up with some better gossipy ideas. Where’s the fun in being here if I don’t keep it a mystery?”

“I think it was some daring robbery.”

“Now that’s more like it! That’s what I want to hear. Do I get a car chase of a life time in your story?”

“You know what? I like this kid. You’re alright.”

Ford groaned as he listened to his brother’s antics. Of all the places to make friends, why on earth was this the place he fit in? He really didn’t understand how they were related most of the time.

He wouldn’t admit that even as he complained, he felt at ease just listening to the web of intrigue his twin was using to enthral his new audience. No wonder he was so good at the tourist trap industry.

This memory was longer than the others, Ford noted as the sky outside the barred windows darkened and the inmates shifted to their bunks. He stood up, dusting himself off as he grew worried that the reason the memory hadn’t shifted was because he himself had been wasting time. He took another look around the corner, noting with a start that although it had been silent for a while, his brother was not in fact attempting to sleep.

His stomach plummeted as his brother stood up with a wince, his face now that he thought no one was looking, a picture of self-depreciation and sadness.

The memory of his brother laughing had lulled him into a false sense of security.

Stan gripped one hand around his midriff, his other hand in his mouth to shut off any noises as he shuffled over to the mirror in his cell. With a deep breath he opened up the jumpsuit, pushing it down to look at his torso.

Ford couldn’t help the noise that escaped at the bruises and wounds that were uncovered. For all his jokes before, it was obvious he’d gotten himself in more trouble than he cared to admit.

“You weren’t meant to see this.”

Ford’s eyes flicked back upwards, staring straight into his brother’s scowling eyes through the mirror. He hadn’t realised he’d been visible behind him. “Stan-”

“No one’s meant to see this.” Stan’s voice turned bitter, his eyes looking their angry edge as he looked away first. “It’s fine. I can laugh it off.”

“Please just- talk to me, Stan.”

“Why? I’ve tried that before.”

Before Ford could say anything more, he’d pushed through the mirror, making the next portal away from him. Ford closed his eyes, imagining the bars weren’t there and walked through them like a ghost, ignoring the feeling that it caused in favour of running after his brother without a moment’s notice.

The memories were aware, he’d known that from the start when the incarnation of his 10 year old brother had shouted at him. But if he could just get them to _listen_ to him. Maybe, maybe this could all stop.

His thoughts took a disturbing turn. What if he wasn’t chasing _Stan_? What if it just looked like him and was Bill’s doing instead? He trembled at the thought; was he on a wild goose chase in Stan’s mind? Chasing figments while the real Stan was locked away somewhere else? And if not, why was Stan running so vehemently away from him? Surely all he needed to know was that Ford had come to help him to realise that what Bill had said wasn’t true about him.

He couldn’t grasp that maybe, just maybe, that quip from the dream demon had only added fuel to an already raging fire in Stan’s mind about his brother since he’d returned through the portal.

“No use questioning it, I can only go forwards.” Ford muttered, standing up, back straight and head held high in the next memory. “Besides, there can’t be much worse than I’ve already seen. The dimensions I was forced into were worse than this.”

He had no idea that these memories were only the beginning.


	4. Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got huge, I loved this one too much. *I'm so mean* Also again, thanks for being the best, you've made my days at work brighter ^^
> 
> I should warn: It's getting darker now. (You might want something to hug)

This world was even darker than the others had been. Moonlight barely trickled through the trees Ford found himself standing under.

“Why am I in the woods?” He grumbled exasperatedly, brushing passed low hanging branches with annoyance. He quietened himself down as he heard an unpleasant crow of victory echo around the trees that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There were vicious sounding shouts mixed in with the humourless laughter that followed but Ford couldn’t make them out.

Ford found himself holding his breath, only realising when he had to take a shuddering gasp of air with the realisation of what he _couldn’t_ hear.

He hadn’t heard Stan’s familiar voice yet, and he’d never wanted to hear it so badly than at this moment. Even in a bad situation he could be found running his mouth with no care for making the position worse, Ford knew that. So why wasn’t he now?

He flinched at a reverberating banging that suddenly accompanied the shouting. Like whoever was yelling was using something heavy to accentuate every point they were making. His stomach twisted in knots as he shuffled through the trees, closer to the racket.

The raucous noise had already died down before he felt like he’d gotten anywhere and he started to move faster, not wanting to be left behind by the memory, a trickle of panic racing through him even though his brain logically told him that Stan couldn’t be in _real_ trouble, it was just a memory. But this world felt wrong enough for his mind to forgo the logical option in favour of being sure. He needed evidence. It was too dark, too quiet, too lifeless around him. The sounds he had just heard ringing in his ears in a discord to the mirth he’d heard only moments ago from his brother’s last memory.

He wanted to hear _that_ again, even it had been bittersweet by the end. Anything but this dreaded silence. Hell, he’d take their usual arguments over that.

A small pinprick of light shone like a beacon for him through the trees and he changed direction towards it, catching the edge of a road at his feet when he wasn’t looking. He clung to the nearest tree for support as he chanced a look in both directions. The trees stretched on both ways, a small car parked just on the verge on the other side of the road almost melding in entirely in the darkness. The glow that had led him this far now was recognisable as the small twinkling lights of a rather ramshackle tavern just within in walking distance. For a second, his heart dropped when no one was in sight.

Had he missed the memory entirely? How would he know where the portal to the next one was?

Before he could become more dejected, his eyes came to rest on the parked car. It wasn’t Stan’s car so he’d just traced over it without a moment’s notice but now that he continued to look he began to wonder why it was here instead of in the car park in front of the tavern.

A small metallic thump made him jump, his heart racing in a weird mix of unease and rejoice. He hadn’t missed anything, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to see where this was headed.

It wasn’t up to him though as he stayed hidden in the darkness of the trees. The thumps continued, the car shaking slightly with the force of it until, with a dawning horror, Ford watched the trunk fly open with a clang and a figure half slump out of it with a terrible rasping heave. He watched, frozen in place as the figure continued to breathe in the air like it was the best thing they’d ever tasted before squaring their shoulders and tried to lever themselves out.

Ford winced as the arm the guy had propped himself up on gave way under him and he tumbled out of the car on to the road with a muffled groan. He took a few seconds again, looking like he was counting to himself before he heaved himself up using the car as a support and proceeded to try and close the trunk up again behind him.

Ford’s heart stuttered in place as the lights from the tavern illuminated Stan. He had known it was him in the back of his mind, of course he had, but he hadn’t wanted to accept that this had happened. His mind couldn’t comprehend the situation at hand; his brother cursing, slightly slurred under his breath, looking around every few seconds as he tried to lock a car trunk he had just come out of. Ford couldn’t see his face from this angle but he was almost positive that there was abject fear in his movements. Ford’s eyes focussed in on his wrists next, his sleeves pushed down near to his elbows. They were red raw, bruises already blossoming dark and purple against his pale skin from whatever they’d bound him with.

But if he’d thought nothing could have prepared him for the situation, he was caught off guard yet again when Stan finally managed to shut the trunk and turned towards him to continue his escape. Blood was dripping in thick dark globules from his chin that he hastened to hold his arm under so as not to leave a trail. There were similar smears on his trousers, as if he’d wiped his hands before touching the car so as not to leave any marks that would alert his kidnappers.

Ford’s stomach threatened to rebel against him as his mind refused to supply a logical reason for Stan’s bloodied and torn up mouth. It wasn’t a busted lip or a nose bleed, that much was obvious from even this distance; like it had somehow been torn up from the inside. A similar confusion was caused by more blood caked onto his sleeves and arms under the rope burns; it wasn’t smeared like he’d tried to wipe blood away, more like it had just collected there whilst he was huddled in the car. Maybe it was just the angle he had been curled up in in the trunk, his mind tried to reason, but for some reason he knew there was a darker meaning to it all that he was just shying away from. He didn’t want to think about the possibilities his mind could conjure up if he let it.

Something told him that he’d be having nightmares about this when he next tried to close his eyes.

A hysterical giggle escaped Ford at the thought. The rift was high in the sky while he sat here in the mindscape, there were important things to be done, a world to save. And yet he knew that this 40 odd year old memory was going to haunt him.

Because he hadn’t been there to stop it.

Ford ducked behind the closest tree when Stan stepped towards the treeline he hid in, his face betraying the line of thoughts in his head. He needed to hide but he didn’t know where was best. A noise alerted them both and Stan, making a split second decision staggered to the other side of the road, slipping into the trees and instantly vanishing from Ford’s eye line. “Is that the end?” He stood up properly, wanting nothing more than to get out of this one. It was only now that he really felt like he was invading Stan’s mind. He’d come in to help but he was seeing everything Stan had kept hidden behind a smile for him and the twins. He felt dirty, he needed a shower after all of this.

He crushed the voice that said he needed a hug. That he needed his brother.

The noises got closer as he went to step out into the road to find the portal. He stepped back again, his mind shouting that he didn’t want to see more, he just wanted to go. And yet at the same time his mind catalogued the two men, trying to speed up the aging process for how they’d look now.

Just in case they ever came back.

Maybe if he plucked up the courage he’d ask Stan who they were. But that was a thought for later, when they got through this nightmare. He held his breath as the two men went over to the trunk of that car, probably mirroring Stan in that moment as he prayed to anything and everything that his night wouldn’t end worse than this.

“How you doing in there, kid?” One of the men jeered, his face set in a fierce sneer as he slammed his hand down on top of the trunk. “We did warn you about crossing our boss. Poor way to repay him for offering you a job. You would have been good at it as well. Shame, really.” The man sighed, tapping again on the top.

The other man leant in close to the trunk, his face more poisonous than the other, though his words were light in contrast and sent a shiver down Ford’s mind.

“Don’t worry. He’s not going to kill you. Well not right away anyway. He wants to have some fun with you first.”

Ford stayed poised to lunge forward as the men continued to talk. He wasn’t going to let this one continue, he was happy to disrupt it. He relaxed marginally as the men got into the front seats without actually checking inside, though he didn’t fully untighten his fists until the car was a mere speck in the distance. He heard a groan from the other side of the road as Stan slowly shuffled back out again, coughing and hacking as if that would help get rid of the blood that still made Ford nauseous.

He watched as Stan looked up at the sky, waves of relief and gratitude to whatever had kept him going that night obvious from his face. Ford knew the truth though; Stan’s resolve had gotten him through it. His eyebrows shot up incredulously as Stan dropped himself to the road without much thought, laying out flat to keep staring at the sky. Ford glanced down the road both ways, worried that the men might come back for him if he sat out in the open, or that another random car wouldn’t see him until it was too late. The road was dark and silent though and a small beeping turned his gaze back to Stan.

Stan glanced down as well, lifting his arm and chuckling disbelievingly at his watch still hanging on by a thread and the alarm that was beeping insistently on it. “Midnight, huh?” He clicked it off, before dropping his arm again, staring back at the sky for a moment that had Ford utterly perplexed. Why would he have a midnight alarm?

“Happy Birthday, Sixer.”

Ford’s blood ran cold at his words. This was their birthday? How could this have even happened? His legs moved without him, unable to just stand and watch his little brother lay shaking and scared all alone in the middle of the road.

Stan glanced up, eyes suspicious and alert at the sound before he slumped back, eyes closed when he recognised Ford. He didn’t even have the energy to run this time as far as Ford could tell, though he wasn’t exactly happy about that. “Stan-”

“I hope the start to your day was better than mine.” He opened one eye, smiling sadly at Ford before dropping his hands to the floor and seeping through it like it was nothing, the black ooze slipping up around him.

“Stan!”

But he was gone and Ford could only grip his chest as his heart hurt and his eyes prickled. He needed to get out of here. _Right now_.

Ford let gravity do its work and dropped into the newly formed portal, his eyes unwillingly finding the small droplets of blood that Stan hadn’t been able to catch.

Yes, this one was going to haunt him.

* * *

 

Ford crash landed onto a brick floor with a thud that made pain shoot up his legs. He winced, standing up and shaking his legs out to get feeling to return to them whilst he took stock of his surroundings. After that last memory he was more tentative in moving forward. He needed a moment to steel himself up. As much as his thoughts were turning traitorous; filled with self-doubt about the resentment he’d held on to for all these years, he needed to stay strong.

Whether he was staying strong for himself or for Stan though, he wasn’t quite sure.

There was a bright light shining from a corridor into his room, leaving the corners and outer edges dark in shadow. He was in a prison cell, alone, which he found perturbingly relaxing. Another set of cells lined the other side of the corridor but in the dark he couldn’t make out how many of them were filled.

“So, new kid. What are you in for?”

Ford squinted through the light, trying to see whoever it was that was talking but he could only imagine they were hidden by the walls of the other side. A familiar yet quiet voice made him turn back to the seemingly empty cell opposite him.

“…Protecting myself.”

Ford’s eyes caught a small shift of movement in the opposite cell and it was like everything came into sharp focus. Stan was sat on the floor, right in the corner of the room. He was curled up in a ball, arms tight around his legs, head resting on his knees. His eyes were wide open though, like the mere thought of closing them would panic him.

Ford hissed, pushing up against the bars of his cell but almost fell back with the impact he made. “Concentrate, idiot.” He snapped at himself, pushing through the bars that seemed to stick and try and hold him in place; he couldn’t focus on pushing through them like they were thin air not when _Stan needed him_.

By the time he was holding on to the other set of bars that made up the wall of Stan’s cell, Stan had already vanished into the ether again. It took all of his willpower not to crumple up into a ball there and then.

_Your brother lived through this. Why on earth had he come to help you when you caused all this?_

Ford let the mutinous voice sit for a while, trying fruitlessly to argue that Stan had done this to himself.

He wasn’t so sure anymore that he could just blame his brother for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...sorry? No, no I'm not. There'll be more on this scene later on so if you have any questions I might be answering them in the next chapter or so :3
> 
> Also Ford wasn't meant to be feeling so guilty yet but...I just couldn't write him reacting nonchalant to any of this ;.;


	5. Blame Burns Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops that took awhile ^^ 
> 
> This one is a bit longer but it follows a lot of the show so I wanted to keep the dialogue in.

A familiar house shifted into view as Ford traipsed through the portal forlornly. The ground was covered in snow again but he retrospectively rejoiced at it not having the same biting cold as it did before. He glanced around, noting him and his brother were stood at the doorway before any arguing had started. He felt a wave of familiarity at the scene that put him slightly at ease. It might not be a memory that he looked favourably on, in fact it had been the start of his own horrific journey on the other side of the portal. But at least he knew what was going on here, there would be no sudden twists and turns that left him struggling to stay calm and collected.

He took another look at the house, the little place he’d carved out for himself that Stan had made money off of once he disappeared.

Then again, it wasn’t the perfect picture he had started to think of it as when he’d been stuck on the other side of the portal.

Ford pushed through the snow, before taking a sudden turn and slipping in through a window he knew wouldn’t be visible to the pair; this memory was going to be a long one if this was where he’d entered it.

“Listen, I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

“Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this thing through.”

Ford shuffled to glance through the open doorway at himself. God he looked a mess, the portal had driven him almost mad long before he had gone through it. He took a look at Stan in that moment, noticing things he hadn’t the first time; the ragtag clothes, the small bag of belongings he carried but it was mainly his eyes that held the most difference. He hadn’t noticed how dead they had looked, how much they must have _seen_ before he got there. No, he’d been too busy looking for elongated pupils and a yellow tinge. His eyes had changed when Ford had spoken though, a small twinge of hope that his brother had called him here because he still trusted him to some degree. The arm at his shoulder was the dash of concern that he’d shook off, even though after everything he knew now he wouldn’t have been surprised if Stan had never answered his call.

His mind betrayed him with that mutinous voice again. _He never blamed you for any of it._

Ford followed them into the basement, staying on the other side of the glass, his hateful gaze turning to the portal that he could only blame himself for building, for trusting Bill. There were a myriad of options for everything that had happened so far that he could excuse himself for; Stan’s mistakes, their father making the choice to kick him out, the choices Stan had made after that to influence the things that happened around him. The excuses were starting to fall flat but he knew he could make the arguments, if he ever felt the need to voice them again. Though he was pretty sure they would die on his lips if he argued with his brother now, the thought of dredging up those memories of his just to get a rise curdling in his stomach. But as for this memory right here, he had nothing he could point at anyone else. He had trusted Bill and it had backfired on him. He had brought his brother here and set off this entire chain of events.

And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth.

“This is the only journal left, and you are the only person I can trust to take it.”

He had trusted again and yet again, it had backfired horrifically.

“Remember our plans to sail around on a boat?”

Ford tore his eyes away from the portal to watch his brother’s face twist again into that hopeful expression that he had been forgiven.

“Take this book and sail as far away as you can, to the edge of the earth.”

“Oh god.” Ford whispered as he watched Stan’s face crumble. How was it, after everything he had gone through the last 10 years, this was the moment his brother looked heartbroken? He’d forgotten how deep that dream had run in Stan’s mind. The boat had been a promise of them being together forever.

“That’s it?! You finally want to see me after 10 years and it’s to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?”

The anger that came bubbling forth from his brother seemed quite justifiable now that he was looking at it in hindsight. 10 years was a long time to not see each other, and the demands he had made then, without really making sure Stan knew what he was asking of him were thrown into a sharper contrast. He could have spent some time talking to him, asking him what he’d been doing with his life. There’d been no real rush; the other two journals were long hidden, this was the last one. Maybe if he had, there would have been less chance of Stan ignoring his words and trying to start up the portal again for 30 years. The rush he felt to do this was brought on only by the lack of sleep, nightmares brought about by Bill of what to expect once the portal inevitably opened, and the still bubbling resentment that made talking to his brother hard to deal with.

They’d both been far too emotional for this conversation.

Of course a fight had broken out.

“Stanley, you don’t understand what I’m up against! What I’ve been through.”

Ford nodded along with his younger self, Stan _had_ had no idea. If he’d just listened then maybe none of this would have happened. He could have hidden the book and come back to see him, maybe they could have mended everything that way.

“No, no, you don’t understand what I’ve been through!”

Then again, maybe if he’d listened as well that probably would have helped too.

“I’ve been to prison in three different countries-” Ford shuddered at the last memory, he hoped as he hadn’t seen the third instance it hadn’t been as bad at the other two “-I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car!” Ford’s stomach threatened to rebel again as the sudden flash of Stan’s bleeding face. His brain short circuited for a second at what Stan must have done before realising he was exaggerating slightly; he’d had to chew off the binds around his arms to get himself free, whatever they’d tied him up with had been sharp enough to rip open the roof of his mouth and gums. Not that the exaggeration mattered, it must have still been a horrific ordeal, one where that option was more favourable than whatever was about to happen to him. Ford, for all his curiosity, hoped that he'd never have an answer to why Stan had gone to that effort to escape. “You think you’ve got problems?”

Ford stood quietly contemplating. Yes he still did think he had had problems, ones that Stan couldn’t comprehend. But so had Stan had problems that he himself couldn’t grasp.

Well, maybe they both could have, if they’d just _listened_.

“I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile in your life and you won’t even listen!”

He winced at his younger self, almost intervening before realising it would do nothing. This was all already said and done after all. But it was obvious that he hadn’t been saying the right things to get Stan’s help, No wonder he hadn’t listened to him. Why on Earth would he have helped him when he’d just called his entire existence up until this point worthless? He’d had no idea what Stan had done with those 10 years.

He hadn’t even asked, he’d just assumed he couldn’t have done anything with his life.

His heart thumped loudly in his chest even now as Stan brought a lighter up towards a third of his life’s works. But now even with the panic of watching the papers go up in flames, the hindsight view of everything that had happened since then warranted the question as to who in this situation was the smart one.

Even then after everything that had happened; being tricked by someone he assumed was a friend, watching his only actual friend start to lose his mind due what he had seen through the portal they had created, Ford had still worried more about his research, everything he had learnt, instead of getting rid of it all and making sure that his mistakes could not be repeated.

If he’d let Stan burn his journal he would have never have been able to rebuild it. Maybe they would have never fought at all and turned the portal on. Or maybe, Ford shuddered at the thought, he would have been stuck on the other side of the portal forever.

Ford let himself fall back against one of the walls, a new insight on his thought process shining through. He knew what would happen if Stan opened the portal, knew that he couldn’t do it because it would risk the world but he also had wanted to be rescued. A catch 22 with Stan in the middle.

Wrong if he abandoned him and wrong if he didn’t.

He jumped as the fight that had erupted crashed through the door beside him. He jumped back further but it wouldn’t have mattered; the two dream versions were too engrossed in the fight to notice him.

“You ruined your own life!”

The smell of burning flesh set his teeth on edge, his hands going to his ears at the scream he knew was about to erupt. This was the moment, the moment where he had left Stan completely unguarded against Bill. Stan had made up for his mistake of pushing him through the portal, they were even again in Ford’s eyes, he hadn’t needed to thank him. But how had he ever made up for this? He’d just ignored it and let him fall into Bill’s hands. He’d never questioned the sigil that Bill had said was necessary on the side of the controls, never thought to ask what it did. At least his younger self had panicked too just at hurting his brother, but it was too late. Stan had hit his limit.

He’d broken him one too many times by this point.

“Some brother you turned out to be, you care about your dumb mysteries more than your family. Well then you can have them!”

And didn’t the truth just sting?

“Stanley! Stanley, help me. Do something!”

Ford looked away as his younger self was dragged through the portal screaming. Of course Stan had ignored all his warnings, what else would he have done after hearing that?

“Stanford? Stanford, come back! I didn’t mean it!” Stan crashed his fists into the portal wall, his obvious terror at what had just happened outweighing any pain his shoulder was sure to be giving him. “I just got him back, I can’t lose him again!”

Ford felt his eyes prickling again as Stan fought with the machine, trying to get it to work again. As he flicked every switch, scrawled through the journal until his eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore and every movement of his arm sent a shuddering gasp through gritted teeth. There had been a moment when Stan had tried to take his shirt off, but the almost howl of pain as it had stuck to his burnt shoulder had him dropping it quickly and Ford almost running to help him.

A mental litany of scolding was going through his head as he watched the fast-forwarded version of events. Stan was pouring everything he had into the portal. At least Ford had had McGucket to make sure he took breaks but Stan had no one. Night after night he pushed himself closer to the edge working with little to eat, little sleep. He’d obviously stopped at one point to look after his burn but the aftercare was severely lacking in Ford’s mind, no wonder it had scarred so deeply. He wondered if it was destined to scar though, considering what it was.

It was about a week later when the mixture of sleep deprivation and malnourishment hit him. Or so Ford had thought until his brother stumbled into his bathroom to struggle through his medicine cabinet. Luckily for both of them he’d always kept it well stocked considering the things he’d met in the forest. Stan’s right arm was shaking badly and it was obvious from his face that he was struggling against the fever that plagued him. The wound had reopened when he’d been lifting up a particularly heavy piece of machinery and although he’d fortunately got away without infection the first time, his body just couldn’t keep up with everything he was subjecting it to.

Ford watched the circle of events that Stan had going with distraught. He’d eat and look after himself only until he could go back to the portal, work himself to the bone before collapsing under the strains he was putting on his body. Burn wounds were notorious for their healing time and every time Stan had a fever induced by it over the fast forwarded weeks Ford wanted to make up for the mistake he’d made.

Ford was sure once he’d heard him hiss to himself whilst staring at himself in the mirror, finally accepting the wound wasn’t just going to heal on its own and taking time out of the portal reconstruction to look after it every day so that he wouldn’t lose days confined to his bed anymore. “You deserve this pain.” Ford pretended it was his imagination and tried to ignore it, glad that Stan was starting to look after himself again.

His thoughts travelled further forward, back to the present, envisioning the steaming bubbling burn that Bill had forced back to the surface with a rage at the demon that seemed ice cold and deadly in comparison. At least this time perhaps he could be there to treat it for him, maybe even make sure that Bill could never use it against him again.

Maybe was the wrong word. This would _never_ happen again.

A knock on the door of the shack had them both jumping a foot in the air. If Ford hadn’t been so caught up in the moment he might have laughed at how similar they had been in that instance. Instead he watched as Stan shuffled over suspiciously to the door.

“Hello?”

Stan frowned in confusion as a letter was held out to him, along with something to sign. “Huh, what’s all this?”

“Please just sign to say you’ve received it.”

“OK…” Stan scribbled something down quickly before closing the door again. He leant against the door, the frown still on his features as he opened the letter and scanned through it. “What? No, no, no.” He cursed loudly, kicking something at his feet without a thought and letting the letter drop to the floor. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

Ford slipped closer as Stan went on a rampage, storming out into the cold as he tugged his coat on. He blinked as the memory ended after all this time, the door becoming a portal in front of him. Before he went through he glanced at the letter on the floor, realising it was an eviction notice. Stan had been so focussed on getting him back he had forgotten to think about what went into owning a house.

_“Finally I ran out of food, I had no choice but to go into town.”_

Ford remembered the words Stan had used when telling his story to the twins about why he’d gone into town for the first time but he had now watched his brother scrimp and save his food, some of which was still available even if Ford had been tutting at how low he’d gotten for the last week.

It was the thought of having to leave the house that had forced his hand. And Ford knew how that ended; with his house becoming the Mystery Shack.

Stan had found a way to work around his problems and although his house had been invaded, he had kept it ready and waiting for him when he got back.

And even that he’d got angry at him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The portal incident~ Obviously had to show up in a big fashion.  
> I didn't let the burn just get infected because usually that's a fairly rapid infection from what I've read - burns are easily reopened so I used that instead. (I almost had to get out my old uni notes to have a look through but didn't so if I'm wrong give me a shout XD I haven't done forensic science in a year or two now and he only really covered how burns were caused not how to fix them, considering ;p)
> 
> One last thing - I have something very important happening next Wednesday, I won't say what yet because it could go very well or very badly so I'd rather not tell anyone at this point (I have 2 or 3 people in real life that know what's going on and thats it) I need to get ready for it so I might not be updating as fast as I'd like over the next few days :c I might do because this fic is keeping me optimistic at the moment - it's my break from getting ready for wednesday and being shouted at by customers at work but as everyone has been so nice I thought I'd explain why I might vanish until Wednesday x  
> Also on the same note! Because of all this I might not be able to watch the next episode when it comes out D8 can I just ask that any one who comments doesn't say anything about the new episode until I say I've watched it in a note? I'd rather not have it spoiled this late in the game ;.;
> 
> Anyway, I'll sstop rambling, have a good night everyone ♥


	6. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up far too late and ended up writing another chapter and a half XD I'll try and have the other chapter up tonight if I can but as I said before, other things to be getting on with ♥

Ford started to run through the memories after that. They all followed a similar flair to them that was painful in their normality. There was no more prison stints, no more blood or broken bones. Just the never ending cycle of events.

By day Stan would create attractions, pull in tourists and work the crowds with charisma and charm that at first had had Ford smiling at. It was good to see Stan in his element. But then by night the smile would slip as soon as everyone was out of sight, he’d stretch out all the aches and pains being that energetic throughout the day would have caused him and went back to work on the portal, or go out looking for the other journals. He would pass out from exhaustion only to wake up and start the cycle again.

Day after day, week after week.

Ford noticed that most of the money went on any equipment he might need for the portal as well as supplies for his attractions. A small amount he’d then use for himself for basic necessities whilst any extra would go into a jar in the bedroom he’d decided to use. Ford watched curiously as he’d count it out and stuff whatever he had at the end of the month into an envelope as well as a letter.

The one chance that Ford got to see one of these letters he realised it was addressed to their parents and that he had written that it was from Stanley not Stanford, even though he was pretending to be him by this point to the towns people, as well as a contact number for them to reach him on.

They never did get in touch with him.

It wasn’t long after this had happened a few times that Ford watched his brother fake his own death. He watched as Stan patted his car with an apology for what he was about to do and faked the crash. He knew there couldn’t be a body and so cut his hand, trailing blood into the forest to make it look like he’d gotten disorientated and gone deep into the woods. When no one found him they’d presume him eaten or something.

The thought that no one would look for him and would just presume him dead made Ford’s heart sting.

Stan continued to send money home to their family. He changed the letters and the contact number to Stanford but his handwriting was the same. Ford was sure they would smell a rat considering it was so different from his own but then remembered that he had hardly spoken to them since he’d gone to college even though he could have kept in touch unlike Stan.

Much to Ford’s disgust and mortification, Stan got a response almost instantly from their father. It was all too clear that he’d been receiving the money but that didn’t mean he had to acknowledge his estranged son’s existence. He didn’t even speak about Stan’s ‘death’ though it became apparent that although Stan asked to speak to her, their mother wouldn’t come to the phone. The father tutted and said she was just being emotional which sent a wave of guilt over Stan’s face at causing it.

Maybe it was for the best, their mother had always been able to tell them apart even by voice.

Ford wondered why Stan continued the farce when it obviously hurt him. It only took a few more months before it got too much for him and he stopped answering the phone. Even now he couldn’t stop living in his brother’s shadow.

He still sent the money though, maybe hoping that one day they’d realise it was him trying his hardest.

 

* * *

 

Ford stopped in another memory not long after, any one that changed from the normal caught his eye.

Stan was sitting behind his desk reaching for his phone, even going as far as picking it up in some cases before putting it back down again and grumbling at himself. His foot tapped out an erratic rhythm on the floor as his indecisiveness took over.

Ford wasn’t used to Stan not making split second decisions and running with them.

Stan took a deep breath, before quickly picking up the phone and dialling a number before he had chance to regret it.

Ford waited, puzzled at the scene as the phone rang out. It was an odd feeling, hearing the ringing tone as if it was right next to his ear but this was Stan’s memory so he was hearing it from his perspective.

_“Hello?”_

“H-Hey Shermie?” There was an affirmative noise that made Stan take a sip of the drink he’d brought with him, his throat obviously dry from the worry of how this conversation could go, though the smile on his face spoke volumes for how happy he was to try and sort through that. “Hey, it’s only me, Stanl- Stanford. Just thought we could catch up.”

The silence that rung through for a while set them both on edge. Stan’s hand tapping against his desk as he waited.

_“Stanford?”_

Stan gulped at the disbelieving voice, wondering if he was that easy to catch out. “The one and only.” He held the receiver away from his face for a second as the silence continued, hitting his hand against his forehead. “Stop acting like yourself, idiot, Ford would never say that.”

Ford snorted. Maybe when they were kids they could have pretended convincingly, but that had stopped being the case as soon as they hit their teenage years.

“What, is it that weird for me to check up on my older brother?”

_“…Yes?”_

Stan blinked, sitting up straighter. “Say what now?”

_“Ford, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for years. Ever since you told us you where you were moving to I’ve been sending you letters! You haven’t replied to any of them.”_ The voice went quiet again a moment before returning, even more suspicious than before. _“So what’s happened? What do you need?”_

“N-nothing!” Stan’s face was a picture Ford never wanted to see. It was a mixture of emotions - sadness that his older brother thought he was after something and only called because of it, pain at being yet again called by his brother’s name by someone he was related to and lastly with anger that even though Ford had had the chance he hadn’t kept in touch with their family.

Ford wondered when it had happened. When keeping in touch with his family had seemed like too much bother for such a trivial matter when he had the mysteries of the universe to unlock. He wondered whether Stan would do a better job of balancing it all; family, the portal, his day job, than he ever had.

Considering the twins had been allowed to stay with him for the summer he assumed he had.

Then again the portal had taken him 30 years to rebuild so that must have taken a back seat at some point. The mutinous voice struck again when his thoughts went down that route, laughing disbelievingly at him. _He built the portal with absolutely no training, with only one of your journals for 29 years and no help from a devious demon. He could have given up entirely on you. He didn’t._

“Look, it’s – I’m sorry, OK? I’ve been so focussed on my work that I hadn’t thought about what my actions were doing to everything else. I’ve just suddenly realised that I’ve made a mistake and I should have been better at keeping in touch.” Stan sat quiet for a second before continuing. “I just want a chance to talk to my older brother but I can understand if that’s too much to ask.”

_“…You really just want to chat?”_

Stan’s face brightened up considerably. “Yes, I just want to know how my brother’s been doing.”

Ford sat back and listened to the conversation, letting it wash over him. He hadn’t known how Shermie’s life had been. Even since he’d come back he’d had to hide away so there wasn’t suddenly two Stan’s around the place. He’d been annoyed at that but he’d never asked Stan what had happened to their family while he was away.

“So how’s my little niece doing?”

Ford blinked as the subject changed, filled with laughing recollections of a small girl battling the world with determination as kids do when they’re growing up. He’d forgotten about the baby girl their mother had baby sat for their older brother while her parents both worked to pay for their own little place down the road. He’d left for college not a year after she was born and never thought to get to know her like Stan was racing to do now. It made sense in retrospect now; this was probably the twin’s mother unless Shermie had had another child he was unaware of.

He wouldn’t be shocked if he was just unaware of it.

“Well I really should get back to work, it’s been nice chatting to you though. I hope you won’t mind if I call you again soon.”

_“Of course not, I’ll hold you to that. Maybe we can come visit you soon as well?”_

“Uhh, sure. You’ll have to give me some time to make this place habitable though…” Stan sat awkwardly, glancing around at the Mystery Shack until he frowned realising he hadn’t heard anything from his brother. “Shermie?”

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, a despondence to the voice that answered. _“Yeah sure, it’d be great to see you.”_

“You don’t think I want to meet up with you.” Stan sat back as if it had hit him full force before sitting forward again, his eyes urgent. “No, seriously, Shermie, I mean it. This house is a pigsty. I’ve been living alone for far too long and haven’t really needed to make it look…presentable passed the tourist areas. I just need some time to tidy up, maybe get someone in to help out. But I do want to see you, honestly.” His words were met with silence. “When’s the next school holiday, Shermie?”

_“Huh? The Christmas break I guess…”_ The question seemed to click something in their brother’s head. _“But if you’re asking if we could come up and see you then I’m afraid not, it’s too long a drive. We could make a week of it in the summer though, if you were ok with that?”_

“Then summer it is and you can stay as long as you like! Bit of a wait on both sides, I know but I’ll have the house in tip top shape by then with some spare bedrooms made up for you all.” Stan grinned giddily as he relaxed and they settled up a definite date that had Shermie a lot more relaxed and less cautious about how much Stan meant it.

_“Then it’s a date, but I’d like to see you before then. Come down and see us for Christmas if you can.”_

The call ended and Ford watched the memory with unabashed curiosity. This was the first one that hadn’t ended with Stan hurt in some way.

Stan pulled out a framed photograph of the pair of them that he had kept all this time, staring at his brother with something akin to frustration. “You had every chance to keep in touch with them, Sixer, unlike me. Why would you let it all fall by the wayside when it was right there for you?”

It felt like this memory was just for him.

He could have easily have had all of this, it wasn’t just because of the portal incident that he’d been isolated from his family.

He’d done that all by himself long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok my theory properly, though feel free to argue and point out things, it was just something that worked out for this story -  
> (also if I've missed things and this has already been explained on the show, just shout at me XD)
> 
> The baby in the flash back 40 years ago when Stan was kicked out can't be Shermie to me just by the timeline (40 years old - twins are 12/13...he and his son/daughter would have to have both had teenage pregnancies at 14 max)  
> So it'd make more sense if the baby was their mum/dad instead - which would in my opinion make Shermie older than the twins - which is why you don't see him in family photos etc as much - he's already moved out of the house. That would then put Dipper/Mabels parent at 27'ish when they have the twins so it worked out more in my head.  
> Or the baby is a younger sibling that has nothing to do with the plot but oh well~ I didn't go down that route :3  
> Also I wanted another female character to play with - hence their niece
> 
> ...I hope thats all ok? ♥


	7. The Demon and The Con Man

A flood of ice went through Ford’s system.

_Bill._

What was Bill doing here?

Ford had slipped quietly into the next memory without a hitch, sad that it was evident time had passed but both he and Stan had not actually been allowed to see the reunion he had had with their older brother and their young niece. He’d flinched at the recognisable greyscale glitched version of the basement that he had found himself in upon entering. He could see under the image that Stan was asleep at his desk, but the greyscale Stan was looking around in confusion.

The world looking like this meant only one thing.

The glare of yellow hit him like a physical punch. For a moment he panicked that the Shack’s wards had broken and that Bill had gotten through to torture them more in the present but it became crystal clear that Bill couldn’t see him, only had eyes for Stan.

It felt like a punch to the gut, his breaths coming in short concerned bursts. He should have told Stan about the demon, his first journal had no reference to him at all. How was he going to know that he couldn’t be trusted?! Ford had fallen for every word he had said, why would Stan be any different?

“What on earth are you meant to be? Did I eat something bad for lunch to dream you up?”

The words let a bubble of laughter escape him, Stan’s sceptical face relaxing him the tiniest bit. He thought this was all just a dream. The concern intensified again; if he thought this wasn’t real he might agree to anything.

 _“Hello…Fez.”_ Bill flew forward, flicking Stan’s fez skew-whiff and earning a grumble of reproach and a swipe from the man. “ _Easy there, I’m Bill Cipher, I’m just a friend of Sixer’s come to pay a visit.”_

“Sixer’s? You knew my brother?” Stan stood up, eyes suddenly alert and expectant for information.

 _“The one and only. Where is he anyway?”_ Ford hissed angrily as the demon looked around in mock worry. “ _He’s always playing with that portal, I’ve never seen him away from it. Has something happened?”_

Stan gulped, looking away. “W-We had a mishap…he fell through.”

 _“Oh! Is that all?”_ Bill started to laugh, ignoring Stan’s shocked expression. Ford’s fists tightened at the half truths he was throwing at Stan, just enough truth with enough spin to charm him. “ _I helped him make the portal, I can do the same with you if you like? Get him back quicker.”_

“Wait, you can do that?!” Stan’s face lit up, though now that Ford had watched him at work it looked more like one of the smiles he was giving an unsuspecting tourist that had stumbled onto the shack by mistake. His smile faltered, looking over at the portal. “I don’t know how you can help though. This is all just a dream, right? You can’t physically help me.”

Ford stared at his brother in genuine surprise. What was Stan getting at exactly? It was relevant, yes, but how would Stan know that it was?

 _“Oh, that’s easy!”_ Bill pushed back into the portal room where he had space and made a copy of Stanford and himself. _“See, this may sound very weird but for me to visit you in the real world I need a body. You’ll have full control unless you give it to me.”_ Ford again hissed at the lie. _“Your brother and I used to trade places all the time whenever he got lost on a certain point to see whether I could solve it for him.”_ The images shifted into one, showing Ford looking still in control but with the yellow eyes that accompanied a possession.

“And what’s in it for you exactly?”

Bill looked affronted at the very question, the images he had created melting into nothingness. “ _What’s in it for me? Sixer’s my friend, I want him back safe and sound! I warned him that if he calculated wrong then the portal could send him to the wrong place.”_

“Hmm, well…thanks for the proposition but I think I’ll manage on my own.”

 _“You’ll what?!”_ Bills eyes shifted red for a second. Ford was just as surprised, though immensely relieved at this turn of events.

Stan smiled at him smugly, noting the change that had happened so quickly. “Getting a bit angry there, aren’t we?” Stan hummed as Bill started to talk again, tried to charm him. “I don’t think so, bud. See, my brother when I met him again didn’t know who to trust anymore. Which got me thinking; if he chose to contact me of all people above anyone else, what did that have to say about his so called _‘friends’_ here?” He raised an eyebrow at the demon, walking back over to his body. “Now, flying triangle, I’d like some actual sleep if you don’t mind and not some fever induced hallucination that this might be.”

_“If you think this is all a dream why wouldn’t you even try this? You really think you can save your brother all on your own?”_

“No, probably not. But I’m not a fool and you’ve got trickster written all over you.” Stan sat overlaying his body at the desk, a sly grin on his face. “I know what that looks like, it looks like me. And I wouldn’t trust me given half a chance.”

Just like that, the mindscape reality ended and Stan woke up with a moan, rubbing his temples as if a headache was flaring. “Stupid triangle, I’ll have to figure out how to make sure you can’t do that again.” He yawned, standing up. “Time for actual bed I think.”

Ford rocked back on his heels. Not only had Stan known what was happening from the beginning, he had been able to trick Bill into giving him more information instead of the other way around.

When Bill had joked about it being hard to trick a con man he hadn’t understood that Stan had outsmarted the demon.

He outfoxed all of them by not falling for the silky lies that the demon charmingly whispered. Tricked him into giving out information without a deal in place.

And Ford thought he was the smart one.

But something was still wrong Ford noted as he followed Stan up the stairs to his bedroom. Why had he asked how Bill would get to the physical plane if he hadn’t already suspected something? And how _could_ he have suspected something?

Stan stared at his reflection again, pulling down one eyelid before shuddering as Ford watched in bemusement. Stan tutted, picking up the small torch he’d kept on his bedside since Ford had disappeared. “I wondered what you were doing Sixer when you shined this at me…knew it was important though.” He pocketed the thing, obviously intent on keeping it with him from now on as he ran a hand over his face. “Jesus, Sixer, why would you let that _thing_ do that to you?”

Ford let the memory end with a chagrin expression. Stan had clicked all the pieces together through sheer willpower. He’d taken the details of Ford’s paranoia down in case they came in useful, knew to suspect anyone saying that Ford trusted them and had ultimately known that Bill was not to be trusted due to his life experiences before this point.

Yes, Ford had thought he was the smart one.

Now he wasn’t so sure Stan was the knucklehead he’d always pertained to be.

 

* * *

 

Unfortunately, this was not the last either of them would see of Bill.

The dreamscape he made up for Stan was a lot different to the intriguing chess room Ford had always trotted into. The one full of charming conversation and friendly challenges to stimulate the mind. Obviously the dream demon had figured out there was no point in flattery and niceties with Stan after his first attempt.

It didn’t make him feel any better though that his brother wasn’t being tricked. At first he had been proud; proud that his brother could see straight through the demon. This feeling fell like a pit in his stomach when Bill began launching nightmare after nightmare at him instead.

A war-torn world with Ford fighting for his life in the middle; outnumbered and outgunned and ready for a surrender that was never given to him.

Another Ford completely defenceless, torn to shreds by a vicious chimeric beast only Bill could think up in a forest scene just outside of the portal. Stan had shook and cried after that one much to Ford’s dismay. He’d kept up the façade, waiting until Bill had left him to his own despair to crumble, wondering whether his brother had died before he’d even got a chance.

There were others with no explanation, just a body lying in a pool of blood, a small trickle falling from his lips. Its dead eyes would open, sitting up with a sickening crack to stare at Stan with hate and repulsion.

“ _You_ did this to me.”

The one he hated the most was the one where his image came through bruised, bloody and panicking, stumbling towards Stan with one arm outstretched, screaming at him for help. Ford hated it because Bill only had to twist a memory for it, the screams as he was swallowed up by the portal still vivid in his own mind.

 _“You could stop all this you know. Just let me help you build the portal.”_ The simpering tone held a sharper edge to it, one filled with barely contained fury.

“I’m doing fine on my own.”

 _“You’re taking too long!”_ Bill roared, his entire form going red as Stan stared on impassively, a yawn escaping him. _“He’ll be dead before you get to him.”_

Ford’s rage was getting icier with every memory he entered. There was a swirling guilty anger at himself right at his centre for this situation even happening. He could see Stan warring with himself. On one hand, the knowledge that this creature wanted the portal open for whatever sick reason that he knew couldn’t be good. On the other, the incessant need to save, to protect his brother.

He was always so stubborn when family was involved.

Most of his rage was becoming fixated on Bill, however. If Bill thought hell had broken loose now he would just have to wait until Ford was back to the world of the living. Hell had no fury like it at that moment. Before the anger had amounted mostly to his own misfortune; being lured, tricked by the demon. This had been added to when he found out the demon had possessed Dipper and terrified him beyond belief.

Now it had been stretched further; to the logical jump that he’d hurt and tricked Mabel. The poor little girl scared of her brother being taken away from her which Ford was trying not to think about.

But all of those reasons seemed small in comparison to what he felt now. Maybe not small but the rage that overcame him had only one point of origin. This demon was trying to send Stan into a spiral of insanity, tormenting him night after night with graphic images of his death. All in the hopes that one night he’d slip up and make a deal. Speed up the process and give Bill another puppet to use.

How dare he try and break _Stan_. How dare he even go near _him_.

And yet with every memory the rage would be swept away by a feeling of immense pride as Stan sent the demon packing time after time. He never once let the demon in close, never once even hesitated when saying no to him no matter what he showed him or how vicious Bill got in retaliation.

The rage would be rekindled as soon as Stan woke up and propelled himself away from the basement. Anything to get himself away from the images he’d been subjected to.

Ford felt the pang of 30 long hard years. The thought that Stan knew he could have sped up the process but at what cost? And watched those similar thoughts eat away at him whilst Bill continued his torment.

And now it was all for naught, Ford remembered with a hiss as Stan was finally left to sleep, Bill growing tired of his toy not doing what it was supposed to. Bill had, in the present, made out that Ford had given Stan away in a deal.

Stan had done everything he could not to fall for the demon and now thought that his brother had made the choice for him before he’d even got the chance.

And now he had to relive it all. A circle of hell designed just for him. Maybe Bill was having fun being vindictive to the one human that was smart enough to not make a deal with him and had caused him so much grief. 

Yes, there’d be hell to pay once they were back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh its almost time~ I will be asleep when it's on though ;.; god damn time zones. Will try and watch it tomorrow though as a break from working.
> 
> I'm going to put a warning here ready that the next chapters scenes are going to get darker - they're not going to be implied like the last ones but I'll tag it all properly and have it at the top of the page for next time.
> 
> Night all x
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: I'M SO SORRY! I got a message that this chapter had the wrong number, went to delete the two drafts that had appeared (what?!) and apparently deleted the chapter that actually had the comments before I got a chance to answer them. Help please I'm so confused, can I get them back???


	8. Attention Required

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my I am so so sorry, I will explain everything in the bottom note so anyone can skip it if they want.
> 
> For now, here's the next two chapters - two because it was meant to be one and then literally doubled in length against the others XD
> 
> OH warning for this chapter: I thought I should add this is going to touch on depression, suicidal thoughts. I don't want anyone getting hurt reading this!

Ford felt time stretch on as he continued through the 30 years that Stan had lived alone in his house. He wondered if it would have felt so lonely if it had been him doing his research in this area for 30 years. Not that it mattered to think about that now.

He stepped into a new memory, finding himself in what was now a familiar kitchen, devoid of all manner of paranormal monstrosities that Fiddleford had shouted at him for when it had been his own. He was ready to wander through it, find Stan and leave when upon taking a step forward he felt something crunch under his boot. He flinched back, glancing down, only to find a broken plate. He frowned, wondering why Stan wasn’t here clearing it up until a fizzle of worry entered the back of his skull.

Why was this an important memory?

He stood up straight, stepping over the broken crockery, noting a mug was also smashed though further away as if it had been thrown, the drink inside strewn across the wall. He gulped, edging along the wall as he went. He was almost worried he’d get something thrown at him, even if this was just a memory, he wouldn’t have been that surprised if he made the wrong move and made an already angry Stan throw something.

“Kid? Kid, can you hear me?”

Ford frowned. That voice didn’t sound angry, it sounded panicked. He didn’t like this tone, he could deal with Stan’s anger but not the voice of a broken man. Had Bill gotten to him? He sped up, finding Stan with his back to the door of his office. He had his phone in one hand, the other pressed tightly to his eyes, as if he could keep everything at bay that way.

“I-I had some visitors today.” Stan managed to get out, as if he couldn’t quite work out what to say. Ford felt his hands curl again into fists. _Who_ had come round? And why did the silence on the other end of the phone seem like the other person had expected it?

“Kid? Did your Dad put them up to this? I’m fine I swear!” Ford forced himself not to move forward when Stan flinched at the strangled disbelieving noise from the other end of the phone. “O-OK I’m not, I’m not _fine_.” Stan spat out, the words poisonous on his tongue. Like admitting it was making it true. “But I’m coping, OK? I promise. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to say what I did to your Dad.” Stan’s hand moved away from his head, gripping the desk as if it was the only thing holding him up. “Look, Kid, I can’t- They want to take me away! You can’t let them…you can’t let them take me away from here!”

It felt like Ford was using up every molecule of energy not to move. He needed to _know_ , needed to observe and see what was going on this memory. Nothing made sense and he felt like if he stood here for long enough it would all fall into place but none of it did. This had nothing to do with Bill, nothing to do with the supernatural or even his past coming to haunt him from what Ford could see.

So why was Stan choking up, not even able to finish his sentences? Why was he so afraid?

It was becoming so hard not to just move forward and pull him into a hug.

“I _need_ to be here, Kid.” Stan’s whisper brought Ford back. “I can’t, I won’t cope if I’m not in the shack, it’s my _home_.” Ford knew the truth behind those words, the white lie mixed in. He needed to be in the shack to bring him back, the thought of leaving, giving up, terrified him.

The voice on the other end of the phone finally answered, quiet and subdued but understanding.

“ _Hey, Hey, it’s OK. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t take you anywhere. I’m sorry Dad called them but he’s just worried about you, alright? You scared us…just promise me you’ll get some help, Uncle Ford? Promise me that and I’ll do what I can but I can’t make any promises if you don’t let us…”_

Ford could no longer control himself. The full body shake that Stan had done at being called Ford propelled him forward. He could almost hear the words running through Stan’s head. _That’s not my name, that’s not me, stop._ He needed to help him, he didn’t need to know anymore.

A floorboard creaked under his foot and Stan turned around, eyes glazing over, his face shutting down into an emotionless mask, obviously angry that someone had seen him at this low point.

Ford jumped through the portal before it had finished closing this time and felt the whole world spin as his hand caught onto Stan’s arm. It stayed dark for a while, like they were floating in the between spaces while Stan fought and struggled until he finally ripped himself away and Ford fell in a crumpled heap into the next memory.

It took him a moment to pull himself up off the floor, wondering if there was even any point trying. It was tiring, to be pushed away every time he tried to get to his brother, tried to help him. He just wanted him to know he was there for him.

_That’s all he ever wanted too. Now you know what it feels like._

Ford groaned at the voice, still lying on the floor. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. He needed to solve the problem and get them both out of here. He pushed himself up into a seated position, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they’d skewed in the fall. He glared at the unfamiliar surroundings, wondering if whatever Stan had been so scared of had actually happened before he took in Stan laying down with the most sullen expression that it actually brought a small sad smile to his face. It looked like the expression he used to wear when they’d both been told off at school and were being forced to explain why they’d done whatever they’d done that day. The smile slipped though when he noted the long chair that Stan was laying on, a young lady leaning over him with a piece of card faced away from Ford so he couldn’t see what was on it. A small cold feeling swept down his spine at it all.

He knew how to fight Bill, he knew how to combat logic and physical problems.

But the thought that his over-confident, frustratingly charming, always smiling brother was not as content as he made himself out to be was another issue entirely. How could he _fix_ that?

And how was it that after everything he’d seen, he still had just assumed that Stan would be ok? That none of it would get to him?

_Because he was always the protective one. He looked after you, not the other way around._

Ford for once nodded with the voice. He wasn’t used to Stan being the one who needed comforting.

Or maybe he’d just never noticed that he had.

“Look all I see is ink.”

An echoing, frustrated sigh that Ford could completely understand when his brother was involved, reverberated around the room. “Mr Pines, you’re not helping me here.” He couldn’t help but be reminded of their teacher though at the stony glare she was trying so hard not to level at his brother.

“Please, I told you not to call me that.” Stan sat up, pushing the piece of card out of his face, Ford’s mind noting without him meaning to the Rorschach ink blot on the other side. “And I can’t help it, I don’t _see_ anything. It’s just symmetrical ink splat after symmetrical ink splat.”

“Mr– Stanford. I know full well that you’re lying to me. You think I’m here to judge you-”

“Aren’t you? Judging my mental stability that is?”

The woman sighed again. “I’m trying to help, Stanford. That’s all. That’s all any of us are trying to do.” Her face softened. “If you just stayed in the facility with us for a while, until you found your fee-”

“No.” Stan crossed his arms, his face the picture of an ended conversation before it had even begun. “And while you’re at it, how about your goons stop knocking on my door every day?”

Ford winced as the therapist was unable to keep the glare off of her face, slipping behind her desk before snapping the cards down on to it.

Her words took his breath away.

“Stanford, your brother has put you on suicide watch. Those _goons_ as you call them, are just checking up on you.” She steepled her fingers, looking at him pointedly. “Now I am trying not to force the issue of you staying with us because I feel that will have a detrimental effect on you and I really am trying to help.” She sat back, putting her hands up. “So, how about this? No more psych evals, no more tests. Just you talking. That’s it. Let me help you. Open up a bit and stop pretending that you’re OK when we all know you’re not.”

Ford sat in shocked silence, unable to truly listen passed the first sentence. There was always that old saying about how much was hidden behind a smile but he never imagined, never even thought in his nightmares that Stan did anything more than wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see.

Obviously he’d had to pull it back in from where it used to reside, scared it would be damaged more by the world. He focussed back in as Stan looked like he was struggling with his words, willing him to let this person in, to let her help him.

“…My…My brother’s been dead for 10 years and it’s all my fault.”

Ford couldn’t take it anymore, he had to leave this memory. It felt too raw. He knew there was a half-truth in there somewhere but maybe Stan had wondered if he was dead, if it was too late to save him.

10 years of failure had grated on him and he knew it would only get worse with each passing year.

  


* * *

  


He made it through the next few years unscathed, or as unscathed as he could be in the circumstances.

There were a few times when Ford felt like shouting at his brother to leave the portal alone and live. Watched the people that came into his life that were obviously important but ended up leaving without him when he refused to be away from the shack for more than a few days at a time. He had so many chances that he could have taken, so many things he could have done.

He watched him make money, enough money probably for their father to accept him back, not that Ford thought that was a good idea at all, but he could have _used_ the money for something, anything.

Anything but just spending it on more equipment to fix the portal and bring him back.

There was many a time as well when Ford felt the impulsive need to grab him, to hold him close and tell him everything was ok. When he watched him day after day take the medication he’d been prescribed and looked at it as if it was a failure on his part.

Or every time he tipped more than his dosage into his hand and stared at it contemplatively, glared at his razor for far too long.

It was terrifying, watching the memories go from bright to a sudden ebbing gloom whenever he entered one of these ones. The memories where he could almost hear Stan’s whispering thoughts.

_Useless. Pathetic._

_The one worthwhile thing you could do._

He’d tried once, his instincts reacting without him, to slap the pills from his brothers hand. It didn’t matter that logically it had never happened, Stan was still living and breathing but he couldn’t stand by and watch it. But Stan’s anger had eclipsed everything in that moment and he’d found himself stumbling back from his brother in shock.

“Why are you doing this to me?!”

Ford wasn’t sure whether the Stan was talking about him in the past tense or present.

Neither of those options gave him cause for hope.

He just had to hope he could make up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Esmeraude11 for pointing out some things in the new game for this and the next half of the chapter :3 sorry it's probably not exactly what you were hoping/thinking but I just couldn't imagine Stan being away from the Shack.
> 
> Also I know mental health would have been...treated a lot differently based on when I'm probably basing this but that would have taken more research than I could give it, sorry everyone ♥
> 
>  
> 
> OK SO my big rant of this week that you are allowed to completely ignore. I just in hindsight find it oddly amusing. 
> 
> I had an exam on Wednesday - that's why I had to stop writing and revise for it. Then Wednesday morning I find out something went wrong on AO3 with this fic so I went to edit it and deleted something I shouldn't =-= really should not have tried that with 10 minutes to go before I left for my exam when I was fried already. Anyway, I got to the test centre...  
> They'd had a water leak. The ceiling had /collapsed/. I'm not joking, no one was allowed in the test centre at all, I'd taken days off work and I know it was no ones fault but it was really frustrating when I just wanted it over and done with =-=  
> So they apologised, said they'd try and reschedule for Friday (today) I rang the number they gave me to do this - got told after 2 hours on the phone + then ringing again the next day that actually I couldn't retake the test until the 19th November...  
> So I went looking myself, found a test center about 40 minutes away by train that would let me take the test this morning and had to rush about and get myself there. XD So I am done and can focus again on this and work.
> 
> Also YAY I passed my motorbike theory test! One step closer to my full license ^.^
> 
>  
> 
> Also - I've seen latest episode and my head is spinning with ideas~  
> Where I've been stopping myself writing because of irl things my mind kept wandering while I was doing things and listening to music and now I have so many half baked ideas in my head hat I need to share! OK just one for now otherwise this will be huge but I really wish I could draw (or make amvs) because does this not sound like it should be the theme song for the weirdmageddon at the moment -
> 
> 'If heavens grief brings hells rain, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday' - no? at first I thought Mabel but I think Dippers probably feeling it from that last episode!  
> 'I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way, still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday' - this one made me think of Stan and Ford more~ Possibly of fanart I've been seeing of Ford taking Bills offer - but I was wondering about Stan joining Bill instead 8O
> 
>  
> 
> As you might have guessed I'm exhausted and it makes me rambly, Happy Halloween everyone!


	9. The Best Medication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last authors note was huge, sorry x I probably should have just made a tumblr post with it all on and linked it...oops
> 
> I hope the two chapters on the same day makes up for it? ♥

Ford’s breath hitched when he found himself in a hospital later on. His brain went into overdrive, images flooding his mind as to what Stan could have attempted. He tried to relax, the memory feeling warm and bright against the dusty gloomy shack that he had become acquainted to over what felt like eons.

“Room…god what room did she say again?!”

Ford’s breath left him in a sudden burst. That was Stan’s voice, he wasn’t in here, he was just visiting. The relief made his knees weak, but he pressed on, following the figure that ran passed him. He couldn’t help the tug of a smile when he heard his brother get shouted at for disturbing everyone and the man just gave a whoop and ran faster. His eyebrow rose incredulously as Stan almost knocked into a lady in the corridor before giving her a small apologetic bow and gave her a flower out of the bouquet he held with a wink that left her blushing.

The charming rogue had returned and this time it didn’t seem like the fake enthusiasm he gave to his tourist trap. He might be convincing to them but Ford was beginning to catalogue the good days vs the bad days and how his interactions changed. He refused to admit that it was so he would be able to tell later on once they were out of this. It was just because his brain had nothing else to do but research while he watched the memories play out.

Just the same, he also wouldn’t admit that he was watching this scene avidly to know what had got his brother into such a good mood all of a sudden.

He just hoped that this memory wouldn’t turn for the worse, though he wasn’t sure how a good memory had survived Bill’s assault. His smile dwindled before he shook his head. Stan had surprised him so far, perhaps this was a safe haven he had made for himself to hide in.

He could dream, couldn’t he?

“Twins!”

Ford couldn’t help the snort at what he assumed was Stan’s voice breaking in glee. He didn’t know his brother could reach that pitch. He looked in at the doorway, glad that Stan only had eyes for the two bundles that he was being handed. He leant against the doorway, watching this tranquil moment, he hadn’t seen Stan this happy...well ever if he was being completely honest. He looked so peaceful and was joking about twins running in the family. The mother, their niece Ford assumed, was looking on proudly, if not tiredly at the old man whose smile seemed to have taken years off of his face.

“Careful with my Grandkids, F-Stan!”

Ford tilted his head as Shermie fluffed his words, running the sentence around in his head. Perhaps Stan had opened up to them more, let them know that he didn’t like being called Ford. He was just glad that Stan didn’t seem like he’d flinch at the wrong name this time.

“Like I’d let anything happen to them.” Stan muttered, still smiling softly, and now, much to Ford’s amusement, staying just out of Shermie’s reach which seemed to be frustrating him entirely by the way he kept trying to sneak over to take one of the twins out of his arms.

“Uncle Stan?”

Ford focussed in as the girl spoke, her voice hesitant. Stan’s smile had changed, a sadder tone taking over him.

“I just…wish Stanf-ley was here to see you two.” His grip on them tightened slightly.

Ford watched as Shermie squeezed Stan’s shoulder, muttering something to him that made him smile properly again. He gave a small sound of relief, though smothered it before he could ruin the memory. Obviously Stan _had_ opened up, he’d spun a few lies he was sure to make it believable. Probably the same way he had with the therapist, made it sound like he’d fought with his twin and he’d gotten himself killed before they could speak again. It was probably how Stan felt about it all.

Except hope could be such a burden when you think there’s a chance of redemption.

“I’ll protect you two with everything I have, you hear me?”

Ford flinched at the whisper he heard, taking flight to find the next memory. This was painful to watch. It was a good memory, one that was so happy and peaceful amongst everything else but now he understood why the memory was here at all. Stan had found a new lease of life in the twins, the ones that would grow up to call him Grunkle Stan and be allowed to stay with him for the summers, the ones who had kept his spirits up throughout everything. Now that Ford thought about it, he was sure Stan had had a picture of them up in the basement, his little mascots through thick and thin.

And he had vowed to take it all away from him at the end of the summer. Take away the Mystery Shack, make it clear to the rest of the family what had happened and who Stan actually was.

He wondered whether they’d let him see the kids again if he had had a chance to do that. He wouldn’t have painted Stan in a very good light.

_“On one condition, you stay away from the kids. I don’t want them in danger. Because as far as I’m concerned they’re the only family I have left.”_

He winced as the words came back to him. He’d put Dipper in danger time and time again, he'd unintentionally tried to split up the younger twins because he thought Dipper needed to be an individual and probably hurt Mabel beyond belief. He still thought that they needed their individuality but honestly, Dipper and Mabel seemed to have the balance of twin vs individual down already without his help. Maybe because they’d always had Stan and parents who were interested in something other than what money they could make. They probably were interested in what their kids did with their spare time.

He just hoped that once they’d saved the world, again optimism showing through, he would get the chance to explain the story without bias in the hopes they would both be allowed to see the young twins again.

 

* * *

 

He slipped through memory after memory again, glad that they were brighter than they had been before but he could tell he’d been right about the last refuge being of Stan’s making. His anger boiled again as the twins vanished from sight, no other memory of them being shown until a much more recent one. At first he was relieved, recognising that Stan had all three journals and that he was close to the end, close to Stan’s centre where he would have caught up to him for the last time.

But then he noticed that Stan was staring at the framed photo he had of the twins, his look something akin to guilt before he threw the third journal down. “Whatever, I’ve got too much on my mind right now to worry about those kids.” He could tell that Stan was warring with himself though. He was so close to the end but there was that nagging feeling, even Ford could feel it, that Dipper had gotten himself and his sister in trouble.

It only took a few minutes for the man to sigh and glance over at a CCTV camera he had installed and before Ford knew what was going on his brother was running, gone to the elevator without a moment’s notice. He frowned, not waiting to see what Stan had and instead just tried to keep up, watched him from behind as he panicked in the elevator, his hand drumming against the side whilst snapping at it to go faster.

Ford jumped back as Stan jumped forward, propelling himself out from behind the vending machine at the undead monsters that had seemingly sprung up from nowhere and were now infesting the Mystery Shack.

Honestly, how much could happen in one summer? And why had Ford never sat them down and just made them run through everything there and then like they had with his and his brother’s past?

A high pitch scream tore through Ford’s mind and from what he could see Stan’s as well. He could see the panic in the set of his shoulders but the rage was taking over at the thought of the twins being hurt.

Stan always could be relied on to not lose his head in a dire situation.

He could feel the rage radiating off of his brother in waves before he realised it was himself that was also resonating with the same fury.

If it hadn’t been for Stan’s refuge of the twins being born the only memory Bill was allowing him to see was one where he was absolutely terrified he was about to lose them. The one time Stan had put all of his focus in to the portal and he’d almost lost them both.

Before Ford could add it to his ever growing list of things to hurt Bill Cypher for, a shout caught his attention.

“Anyone else want a piece?!”

A strangled noise escaped Ford’s lips as Stan fought the undead with his knuckledusters as if he didn’t have a care in the world for how close they got to him. A flare of panic filtered through Ford’s head at how badly that could have turned out but was mixed in with the hysterical bubble of laughter that came from the knowledge that Stan applied this brand of fighting to every bad situation he seemed to find himself in. And yet it had so far worked to his benefit.

Why mess with a perfectly good fight plan?

Ford couldn’t say his more thought up and complicated plans had ever worked out more for him.

 

* * *

 

Ford slipped out of the last memory before it could go too far, staying only long enough to see the three of them safe together. He knew the end; they get away safely with no long-term harm.

He hadn’t expected to fall out of the other side of the memory and back into the mindscape. He’d fully expected to have to live through his dismal return through the portal through his brother’s eyes.

He was already regretting his actions without having to watch them on repeat.

But instead he found himself in the centre of what he could only assume was still meant to be the warped Mystery Shack. But the room was huge, stretching far and wide. A room that wouldn’t fit inside the outer shell that he had entered but then again this was the mindscape, it didn’t conform to any of those rules.

In the centre of the room was a large ship that took Ford’s breath away with its design. Obviously Stan had taken their sailing away on a ship to heart, his minds centre had become a full blown three masted vessel with a large flag fluttering in a non-existent wind at the top. The ‘Stan’O’War’ was emblazoned across the side in gold lettering. If it wasn’t for the situation Ford might have laughed that Stan’s adult antics had led him to make their talk of adventures into a pirate ship. But it looked like the ship had seen better days, the sails had started to tear, the bottom sinking into the floor as if marooned when it hadn’t always been.

His eyes were drawn to movement atop the ship, a figure staring down at him with open hostility.

“Stanley?”


	10. Communication Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My week is still not going well~
> 
> Guess which idiot got drink spilled all over her laptop? This person =.=;;  
> Guess who now has to wait 2 weeks for it to be back? dingdingding you guessed right!
> 
> I'm on an old laptop with quite broken keys so if there are spelling mistakes give me a shout!
> 
> Short chapter because I didn't want to start the next bit in this chapter but I also wanted to get something out because you guys lift my spirits up whenever we chat x

Ford stared up at Stan, waiting expectantly for an answer that never came. This wasn’t a memory of Stan, that much was obvious. He was wearing the suit that had grown familiar to Ford along with the fez that he’d never really understood the point of. It was the torn up shoulder that still seemed to be smoking painfully though that really let him know this was the present day Stan.

The one that thought he had traded him away in a deal with a demon.

Ford gulped, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he tried to figure out how to approach this. “Stan? Can we just-” He took a step forward before quickly stepping back again, hands up in a silent plea as Stan’s stance changed at his movements.

He couldn’t tell whether he was getting ready to fight or flee. His hawk-like expression of hostile suspicion wasn’t helping matters.

“Easy, Stan, it’s me...well, I guess that’s not exactly a comfort considering-” Ford gestured behind him at where the portal had been. He winced when Stan’s eyes suddenly no longer found him interesting to scrutinise. In just a second he’d managed to focus in on Ford’s eyes before glancing over his shoulder. Stan was proud and had never mentioned any of these things happening, it was only logical to presume he hadn’t wanted any of it seen. “OK, off to a bad start, as always. Don’t- we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” Ford licked his lips, looking round. “N-nice ship you have there?” He could have hit himself for letting his mouth run without thinking but his heart thumped loudly when it got Stan to look him in the eye again. Albeit it was a disbelieving eyebrow raise at his words but at least there was confusion amongst the suspicion that rested there.

Maybe he should let his mouth run away with him more often.

“Look, just, just listen, OK?” Ford sat himself down, hoping it would give an air of harmlessness or at least the view that Stan was in control. He had the high ground physically and metaphorically, Ford thought with a small chuckle. He watched happily as Stan stepped closer to stare over the side of the ship, his gaze still sharp but getting more perplexed by the second. “I guess first I should apologise for invading your memories.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing up desperately at Stan. “I didn’t realise what you’d- you’d been through over all these years.” Ford shook his head. “Not that that matters. I should never, ever have-” He growled at himself, frustrated that at this crucial moment he didn’t know what to say, what to do. How could he make up for everything?

How could he make up for _anything_?

“I should have looked after you. I should have realised you’d never purposefully hurt me. You were always looking out for m-”

“Oh, will you just _shut up_?”

Ford froze as Stan suddenly spoke. He peeked back up, a full body shiver going through him at Stan’s flint-like glare. His hands were balling into fists, his mouth set in a thin line as he appraised Ford. “Stan? Did I say something wrong? I’m just trying to-”

“Are you not listening? I said, will you just stop trying, you animated triangle?” Stan crossed his arms, his face a weird mix of smugness and anger. Like he’d caught out someone trying to lie to him but wasn’t happy about the situation.

“Stan, it’s me, Ford!” Ford stood up again, as he processed what Stan was saying. He thought he was Bill. What had Bill done? As he spoke, he realised with a small tingle of dread that he’d said those words before.

_“No, you’re not him. I’d know. You’re not him! You’re not my brother. He doesn’t hate me! He trusts me!”_

The small 10 year old Stanley that he’d met right at the start. The one that had seemed to not know who he was but called him by name all the same. So he had been chasing Stan all the way through this, it wasn’t a trick Bill had created to send him on a wild goose chase. Instead it had been the other way round; Stan had thought it was Bill chasing him the entire time and if he stopped running he’d be broken down again. Ford bit his lip, counting slowly to ten as the anger hit him. With the fervent way that Stan had run from him he could only assume that he’d been playing that memory set on loop with a version of Ford created by Bill.

And Stan had probably got his hopes up one too many times and stopped for him.

He didn’t want to know what Bill had done in those instances. Not with all the ammunition that he had probably given him in Stan’s memories.

Unlike the younger Stan who didn’t trust him because he didn’t think Ford would hate him, he wasn’t sure that calming words would help with this real iteration of Stan’s present day feelings towards him. How was he meant to make Stan believe him, trust him even, when up until now all he’d shown him was mistrust and a sense of disappointment?

“What can I do to prove it’s me?” Ford whispered, his voice carrying. He looked up determinedly at his brother. “I’ll do anything, Stan, anything. I want, no, I _need_ to make it up to you.”

“And that’s the flaw in your disguise, triangle.” Stan’s small sad smile felt like a shard of glass in Ford’s chest.

“What? Wait.” Ford reached out, even though he was still so far away, his hands grasping as if he could hold him from this distance. He couldn’t help reacting as Stan’s shoulders drooped and he walked slowly backwards out of his line of sight. “Stan, _please_!” He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care.

Yet again they both couldn’t communicate well enough to get anything across to one another.

Since when had the wavelength they used to be on as kids taken a 180 degree turn that made it impossible to interact with one another without it all falling apart? He could blame it on the years of separation but he knew he could have tried a lot harder since he’d come back through the portal. Hindsight was 20/20 but it didn’t help the fact that his brother had become so mistrustful of him that he actually thought he was trying to trick him, trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

“You don’t know a thing about my brother!” Ford heard echoing back at him, mirroring his own thoughts, footsteps ringing out loudly as Stan broke into a run. He went to run after him, to climb the ship by any means necessary when Stan’s next words made him trip.

“He’d never apologise to me!”

And didn’t it almost physically pain him, that when he thought about it, he’d given Stan no reason to think otherwise.

Because why after everything that had happened would Stan actually even dream that his twin brother would come to rescue him?

“Y-You’re not _real_! You...can’t be.”

Ford’s heart missed a beat. There had been hesitation that time, a wavering glimmer of hope to Ford that Stan might actually have a small sliver of doubt about what he was saying. He took to the ship with a new gleam of determination.

Stan was trying his hardest not to get his hopes up, setting himself up for the inevitable fall that he was sure was about to happen if he let him in.

Ford wasn’t about to let that happen. Not again.

Not _ever_ again if he could help it.

No matter what happened Stan always seemed to give him a chance and though he didn’t deserve that chance now in his eyes; he was going to, for the first time since they were teenagers, grasp that chance with every fibre of his being.

He tore up the side of the boat, landing only to find a cruel parallel of his first entrance into Stan’s memories. He’d yet again chased after Stan only to be met by a swinging door, knocking against the wood of the ship. Only this time the void was filled with a white light instead of the dark substance Ford had become accustomed to.

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m coming, knucklehead. You better wait for me.”


	11. Own Worst Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter because I really couldn't cut it~ I guess it's got the extra length the last one was missing haha!

“No.” Ford hissed. “No, no, no, no, _no_.”

A wash of utter despair overtook him. He thought he’d been making a difference, thought he was breaking the chain of events and getting closer to Stan. Slowly but surely, he had thought, one step at a time. It didn’t matter if it took forever but he’d get there.

So why was he back _here_? Back in their school gym at the dead of night watching his brother getting angry at his science project yet again. Back in what felt like the loop of Stan’s memories, only this time they’d missed out the nicer childhood ones he’d seen first.

“I don’t want to see this...Stan!” Ford shouted at the ceiling, ignoring the younger image in the room. “I get it, it was an accident! You never meant for it to brea-”

“Oh God, what have I done? I need to tell Sixer.”

Ford blinked, quietening down as the younger Stan panicked at the broken machine before he ran out of the gym. This was...different to say the least. Also a small voice in his head catalogued that the memory Stan, or whatever it was hadn’t even batted an eyelid at his shouting. Every time he’d disturbed a memory the Stan had made it clear he was aware of his presence but this one had almost walked through him. He slowly followed the younger boy, feeling more lost and worried than ever.

Nothing made sense.

“Look, look, sixer. I’m sorry, OK? Just please come and-” The younger Stan was stuttering out his words into a payphone that they had in the school corridor, his free hand almost snapping the cord with the grip he had around it. “Of course I didn’t mean to break it! Would I be ringing you if I did? I want you to come and check up on it before those geniuses arrive to mark you on it! If I meant to do it, do you really think I’d be telling you?” He paused, sniffing. “Look you can be angry all you want, just _please,_ please get down here so I don’t ruin everything like I always do.”

Ford frowned, watching the other boy. If he hadn’t seen everything that he had, he might have thought this showed that Stan had meant to sabotage him. But he could tell it was just an expression of his guilt. The Stan at this point wasn’t known for ‘ruining everything’ and Ford ignored the stabbing self-reproach at having thought that himself for so long. It was funny really, how if you said it enough you could believe anything and for some reason every little mistake and accident that happened from this point onwards Ford had used Stan as his scapegoat.

Ford flinched as the scene changed in a sudden manner that he wasn’t accustomed to. It was like the entire world just glitched, like the mindscape couldn’t keep the scene running anymore. The floor vanished into a looming chasm though Ford couldn’t feel himself falling. The younger Stan disappeared, the phone clattering against the wall left in his wake which left him at a loss as to what to do.

Where was he meant to go if he couldn’t follow Stan?

In one aching, panicked moment, he suddenly realised what it was like to be on the other side of the portal with no idea how to open it, how to get him back.

The voice he had been ignoring for so long, the one that had been mutinous throughout this experience now sounded like the voice of reason.

_Please don’t go where I can’t follow._

The walls shifted in both directions like puzzle pieces coming apart distorting his vision enough to make his head hurt and his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, he breathed a sigh of relief. This might be another terrible memory but at least he knew what was going on.

“Wait.” Ford’s eyes narrowed as he processed the scene, his voice coming out in a hiss of air. It was different again. It had taken a moment to realise because this wasn’t _Stan’s_ memory.

It was his.

This was the moment that Stan got kicked out of the house, only he was seeing it through his own eyes again, as weirdly disconcerting as that was and even harder to think about. Ford found himself in their shared bedroom, listening to Stan’s car drive away as his younger self closed the curtains against the world and all the betrayal that he had felt lay out there at the time. The sound of the car revving dwindled into a distant barely audible hum and Ford wondered why the memory had left him here.

Was this what Stan had imagined he was doing? Or was this a test, to see if he’d come running after him this time?

Ford gave a frustrated growl as he went to let himself out of the house to endeavour to follow him. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of this, small tidbits of theories running laps around him but none of them stuck. None of them gave him a satisfactory answer to what all this _was_.

A pen clattering to the floor behind him, making him spin back into the room. His younger self was gripped his head with one hand, his eyes wide open in shock as he took a second to breathe in shaky breaths.

“S-Stan?”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed deeper as he watched his younger self push away from his desk and run out of the door, heard the shouts of his parents that he ignored as he clattered out of the house.

Ford stayed close behind him, not wanting to miss what was going on.

“What the hell have you done, knucklehead?”

He heard the mutterings as clear as day, still not comprehending what was going on until it clicked suddenly.

His younger self knew exactly where he was going. He hadn’t called Stan to find him.

Stan had always been gullible enough to believe their mother’s lies about being psychic. Had beamed giddily when she said him and his brother had a connection as twins that made it easier to find one another whenever the other needed them. Ford had lost faith in that long ago.

Funny really now that he thought back and remembered how many times Stan had seemingly appeared from nowhere when he was being beaten up by bullies or hiding in a dark part of the library in the hopes no one would find him. He’d never felt the phantom tell tale sign that Stan had ever needed him in that manner though so he’d never really thought it was a ‘twin thing’ that they had. Then again, Stan could get himself in and out of trouble easily as kids. He hadn’t been the one to need help.

And when he had needed help, Ford had already severed the link that let him care.

Ford gagged as they carried on running. There was a smattering of screams whistling through the wind, the smell of burning metal and blood making him throw an arm up over his face and recoil slightly. It was so strong that a shard of panic went through him. Had Bill broken through the shack’s protections? Was that the real world breaking through and flooding  into Stan’s mindscape?

As he rounded the next corner all the thoughts and theories dribbled away into nothingness.

His younger self was screaming something, his mouth open wide as he ran forward but his ears had popped, he couldn’t hear anything other than his own heaving breaths which suddenly seemed painfully loud. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t _think_.

And yet at the same time he hated his brain for focussing on the things he could logically point out even though these weren’t the answers he’d wanted. He didn’t want to know how it had happened in every miniscule detail.

He could tell it had been a side on collision, the side door of the once familiar car dented out of recognition. From the distance it had travelled, against where the other car rested, it had rolled a number of times to now rest upside down metres away from the actual junction. His brain tried to pin blame; blame the other driver for hitting his brothers car and doing all this damage. But he knew his brother had had other things on his mind. He shouldn’t have been driving in that state. He probably hadn’t cared where he went, just needed to get away, didn’t check around him enough. Didn’t check his speed. Ford didn’t really care whose fault it was though, not when his knees hit the ground with a clattering thud, the skin on his palm tearing where his hand went out automatically to catch him.  

Not when there was a familiar arm lying out of the shattered car window, limp and bloody.

Not when he could still see but not hear his younger self kneeling next to the car, trying to get any kind of reaction out of his brother.

_“This would have been better for everybody.”_

Ford heaved, his stomach rebelling against him at the voice that spiralled down on the wind towards him and the sharp tang of burning metal that had wafted up again. It wasn’t his voice, it was _Stan’s_ that time. His brain tried to combat it all, tried to say this was all a test, one that he subconsciously hoped he was now getting marks for because he never wanted to be tested like this again.

The thought of his brother dying was not something he was ready to think about. Nor the thought that it would be better for everyone if he did die. He’d watched his brother battle that particular demon alone for years and he’d make damn sure to beat that demon back as far away as possible.

But there was a lingering doubt, a piece of the puzzle that was missing. This didn’t feel like it was just a test, there was something very off about the entire situation.

And that terrified Ford more than anything.

What if the memory lane he’d been forced down had all been Bill? He knew he’d chased the real Stan through it but that didn’t mean the construct was his. What if this was Stan’s _real_ mindscape?

What if depression shattered a mindscape to this degree without needing any help from a dream demon?

It felt like everything was fractured here, the world starting to morph around him again. Like every scene was a tire to create and even more of a stretch to complete. There was a mix of fact and fiction here like Stan couldn’t hold on to the memories anymore, his mind supplying other information to combat it’s lack of knowledge.

It made him wonder if the white lies he’d noticed in Stan’s retelling of their story to the twins when he came back through the portal had been to spare them the grisly moments or whether he actually remembered things that way.

He gulped, standing up on shaking legs with difficulty.

If that was true. How on earth could he fix that?

 

* * *

 

The world had managed to stabilise before it had broken up entirely like the last one had. Apparently Stan’s mind had a stronger hold on a fake memory where he died against one where him and Ford had fixed things early on. A thought which Ford filed away again to the back of his mind to think about later, once this was all over and done with. There was another white portal waiting for him instead in the middle of the road, though the edge was tinged red, getting darker with every passing minute. It was far too close to the car crash that had never actually happened for Ford’s comfort.

It took a lot of effort to move closer to that portal. Even more to go through it not knowing what he’d see on the other side.

It was the conscious act of not looking at the wreckage of the car as he shuffled forward that made him jump into it. He couldn’t stay here.

He dropped a meter or so on the other side, recognising the shack’s basement once he got over the glare of the portal he’d walked through in contrast to the gloomy room. The angle was wrong though and he turned around to realise that he had just fallen back through the portal that was still upright and operational unlike the present day one. He glanced back into the room, half turning, his heart thumping as he saw his brother, still completely unharmed.

It was ironic really, the completely contrasting emotions he felt now in respect to the real moment he’d come through the portal.

But this was different. They were still too young and they were arguing, fighting. The portal was whirring back into life and Ford felt the need to step passed the safety lines he had put down. Even if this was Stan’s mind, the part he had found himself in was proving to be unpredictable. He wasn’t prepared to go into whatever Stan _thought_ was behind the portal.

He watched as Ford and Stan fought but at the last moment, the one that he was waiting for patiently to happen so he could see what would happen next in Stan’s twisted version of events never came. One minute Stan was pushing Ford just as he remembered.

The next Stan had managed to grab hold of him and pull him out of the way, pushing himself towards the portal instead.

“Stan, no!” Ford would have glanced to his side if he hadn’t had more important things to think about. Might have been proud that him and Stan’s image of him had done the exactly same movement, panicking at the thought of Stan going through there. The voice in his head was going into overdrive just imagining the terrible possibilities that could have happened because of this one fatal change in reality.

_No, he can’t- he’s already injured! You injured him and let him fall through the portal. There’s no way he’d survive over there!_

“Don’t worry, Stan! I’m coming!”

Ford’s hand dropped as the portal lost it’s light, staring at the empty space for a moment, his voice hushed and pained. “I’d never wish this on you.” He heard the portal stuttering and starting, realised that it needed repairs after that fight but that his younger self was trying his best.

Just like he knew Stan had done.

Just like he hoped he would have done if this had actually happened.

His eyes widened at the thought as he turned to watch his younger self feverishly prodding at buttons and clicking through everything.

The puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

It was so obvious and yet he’d missed it thinking up impossible possibilities.

Knowing brought a sense of satisfaction and relief flooding through his system, a tingling of pride for his brother at understanding what he had achieved. But it was soon followed by a melancholy as the full picture revealed itself to him.

He was inside Stan’s imagination.

Stan had made himself refuges amongst the memories Bill dragged up, managing with dwindling energy to push in safe havens; memories that were sad enough for Bill not to notice too much, when in reality they were some of the best Stan had.

When that had not helped, when it was obvious that he wouldn’t be allowed to stay in those memories he had done the next best thing.

He had run away from the memories entirely, back to his own imagination to try and keep his sanity intact. A shining oasis amongst the war-torn hell that Bill had created out of the rest of his mind. The Stan O War rising high, strong and powerful against the oncoming storm. It always had been his dream; his hopes and fears all tied up into that one thought of sailing away.

Only it hadn’t been the shining oasis he had hoped for.

The Stan O War had never sailed.

His own mind, poisoned by all the memories he had been shown couldn’t keep up the happier images he wanted to play. His own mind was betraying him, dredging up the subconscious thoughts that he held about himself.

His mind was doing far more damage to himself than Bill ever could.

The scene shifted again, only slightly this time. His younger self was still at the control panel, staring at the portal his brother had just gone through. Only a sneer now lingered on his face, his eyes dark as he pulled his hand away from the start up buttons, turning the key to its off position with a vicious yank.

_“Good riddance.”_

God, was that really how Stan saw him?

Ford turned back to the empty portal, wishing that Stan would change his mind and show the happier image again. The one where Ford would open the portal again and come save him. Where they could have spent 30 years getting to know each other, communicating, making a difference in one another’s lives.

But, alas, Stan seemed to put more faith in the image that Ford would leave him behind in the other world. That he wouldn’t even try to save him. A whisper of familiar words that had been spoken to him on this very spot 30 years ago fell passed his lips.

“Some brother I turned out to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sleepy, good night lovely people~
> 
> I hope that if it was obvious what was going on in this chapter that you get where Ford was coming from :3 when a puzzle is actually really easy to solve but you assume it won't be and just need a fresh pair of eyes to point it out.


	12. Doubt's Roots Run Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to warn again that there'll be dark mentions in this chapter!! but we're drawing close to the resolution now!
> 
> I won't tug on your heart strings for much longer ;p
> 
> well at least in this particular story...I might be persuaded to write more gravity falls fiction haha!

Ford never thought he’d wish to be back in Stan’s memories.

But Stan’s imagination was worse than he’d ever expected. He knew everyone had fears, everyone had doubts but this was _torture_.

And he wasn’t sure who it was meant to be torturing. The feeling of helplessness washing over him the more he saw.

He knew logically it was the trip down memory lane; that it had loosened all the subconscious thoughts and deep set old fears back into his mindscape from where they had probably all been bolted up shut for a very long time in the darkest recesses of his mind. It was obvious Stan had been to the mindscape before, knew where to go and what to do to aid him in keeping some semblance of sanity against Bill’s torment. It was only another jump of logic to assume once he knew how to control it to some degree he’d locked all the darkness away to make it easier to cope, make it easier to face the world and carry on with his quest to get Ford out of the the portal.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that the younger pair of twins had probably strengthened the chains that wrapped up all the dark swirling thoughts, made them all feel less tangible and consuming. They had replaced the allure of the voice that hissed and ebbed just below the surface, ready to strike at any moment. _If you just did it, the pain would go away_. Had silenced it with their bubbling laughter and bright words that had made feel Stan feel worthwhile again.

He just had to pray it hadn’t actually been him that had planted the seeds of doubt that had knocked the demons loose again. The punch Ford had given him when he’d first returned after 30 years of Stan’s hard work might have set off a lot more mental waves of pain than it had ever made physical ones.

Not to mention their only real conversation afterwards.

All his brother had wanted was some acknowledgement from his brother. A simple ‘thank you’ that Ford hadn’t thought was justified at the time.

Ford, unable to think about all that, shut down that train of thought. Yes he had a lot to apologise for, he had a lot to make up for but this, this actual scenario was Bill’s doing. And yes he could bounce the blame for that back and forth but he needed to hold on to the belief that this wasn’t Stan’s mindscape. This was what happened when Bill rummaged around in it and locked up all the good and brought forth only the bad. He had to hope that was the case at least, had to hope this wasn’t what his brother’s mind was like all the time. “It can’t be…” He muttered to himself, ignoring whatever image was in front of him. “He wouldn’t have run to the Stan O War if it was always like this. He thought it was a beacon.” The thoughts settled him, though only slightly. This was still a lot to have had bottled up inside. Bill could only work with what was already there.

He would have to make sure Stan didn’t bottle them up again once this was all over with. They would have to talk about this, as much as the thought of prying more secrets out of his brother set his teeth on edge and his stomach rolling at the possibilities that could come out of that conversation.

But if it would get rid of some of Stan’s demons he would do whatever it took to make this world shiny and new again.

The determination his mental monologue had brought up did nothing to dissuade the sense of helplessness that only spread deeper when he found he couldn’t disrupt the cycle. He had shouted, had screamed and yelled himself hoarse in his attempts to break it. He had even lunged at his brother, only to find out he wasn’t solid and had gone straight through him. These were visions he had no control over. Nothing he did could stop the images flicking passed his head and there was no way it seemed to get out of them.

All he could do was close his eyes as the Stan in this world took the last step that the real Stan had never been able to do. He couldn’t pry the razor away from him this time. Another time he found that even though he tried to wrap his arms around him, he was nothing more than a ghost that went straight through, screaming and crying into Stan' ear as he picked up the pills that Ford couldn’t get away from him in time.

He watched the portal flicker and die multiple times as Stan grew older and screamed at it to work. Or even worse, saw the portal work over and over again but no one ever came through just as Bill had predicted years before. Watched Stan crumple to the floor like his strings had been cut when he realised he was _too late_. Ford sat close to his brother in these ones, hoping that his words weren’t all for nought as he whispered gentle murmurs in the hopes that even if this mirage of Stan couldn’t hear him, the real Stan would. He rubbed a hand over Stan’s shoulder or through his hair even though it felt like air to him, shushing his tears like he remembered Stan doing for him when they were kids and the bullies taunts had been too much for him.

“You know this didn’t happen, Stan, please remember that.”

“I’m right here, you _saved_ me, Stan.”

“I’m sorry for never thanking you.”

There were others that made him curl up into a ball himself, his arms encircling his knees. The ones where Stan wasn’t as strong as he had obviously been in real life. The times when he had caved to Bill’s deals and had gotten to Ford so much sooner. Their reunion in Stan’s imagination was a lot more appealing than what had actually happened, the guilt tightening his arms around his legs. But it was short lived, Ford’s young face filling with horror as Stan’s eyes turned yellow, a vicious grin on his face that Ford tried to shut out quickly, or as Stan was whisked away for whatever Bill’s nefarious plan was. That part was never fully realised in these visions, Stan not being able to fathom what the demon had wanted with him of all people but the thought alone that Stan could have made a deal with the demon sent a shiver down Ford’s spine, his own imagination filling in the blanks Stan’s couldn’t.

Ford’s mind snapped into focus as he let himself drift further and further into this dark realm that had encompassed him. What on earth was he doing? He was letting the mindscape rule over him like he was a part of its constructs  instead of a traveller through it. He knew how the mindscape worked, knew how to pull himself in and out of it without trouble. And yet here he was letting it choose where it took him.

Witnessing what he had in here had made his mind desert him for a while.

“Time to put a stop to all of this once and for all.” Ford growled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself before suddenly pushing his arms out straight at the walls either side of him, imagining a wave of energy pushing through him. He snapped his eyes open, letting his emotions pour out of him in that energy, the world bulged out away from him before popping like a bubble.

Ford gave another shaky breath, feeling slightly hollow and tired afterwards but overall better for pushing the negativity away from him. He glanced around him, finding himself outside, the rift tearing through the sky above him, his brother and himself standing a few metres before him with Bill smugly twirling around them. He closed his eyes again, pushing out with his mind but there was no bubble around the scene this time. “Well, Stan is here somewhere then…that’s a start at least.”

_“You gave me everything I needed. You don’t remember giving me your brother as part of our deal?”_

Ford hissed at the demon’s words, rising up swiftly at them, his fists clenched as Stan collapsed. He took a quick sprint forwards, almost howling in rage when all three of the figures turned out to be mirages yet again.

He’d almost hoped he could have torn the image of Bill apart.

“So this Stan’s not the real one.” Ford glanced around confused. He could _feel_ his brother here, now that he had set his mind to it. He’d been too emotionally charged before but he could just sense that this wasn’t all just an imaginative bubble his brother had already made it out of. He was stuck here too. He just had to _find_ him.

His sudden epiphany and calculated approach was shattered by Stan’s imagination again. The swirling guilt breaking back through the barrier as the scene sped up and he stumbled away from the three figures.

“Stan?” The other Ford shook him as Bill disappeared. He glanced at Stan then towards the forest and back again. “I’m sorry Stan, the kids- they need me. I can’t let them do this alone.” And without a second glance back he was running after Dipper into the woods.

Ford sat back, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate an argument against Stan’s imagination of what happened after he passed out. Of course Stan would hope that he would go after Mabel and Dipper. He wouldn’t in his wildest dreams think that Ford would go after him instead.

No wonder he hadn’t believed it was him when he’d finally had a chance to speak to him at the Stan O War.

The scene rewound itself, making Ford flinch as his other body flitted backwards, his brother making a half attempt to sit back up in a weird clicking way that didn’t seem physically possible.

_“You gave me everything I needed. You don’t remember giving me your brother as part of our deal?”_

Ford jumped up as his other self gathered Stan up in his arms, his heart in his throat at the thought that Stan might actually have imagined that Ford would help him.

His other self’s words made his heart sink far lower than it should ever go.

“I’m sorry Stan. I’ll take you somewhere safe but...the world’s ending and it’s my fault. I’ll come back and help you once all this is over. I promise, I will. You’ll understand, once this is over.”

His hand gripped his chest as he took a steadying breath, closing his eyes as the scene rewound again and made it look like he was dropping his brother to the floor before it started to repeat again.

Stan didn’t believe in him anymore. He knew it was what he deserved but Stan had _always_ believed in him, even after everything.

He’d lost all his chances.

“There isn’t time for this!”

Ford snapped out of his thoughts as his other self shouted angrily, taking one panicked glance at his brother before spinning away and running off.

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

“No, you’re not.” Ford hissed angrily at the image. It wasn’t even running towards the kids! It was running after Bill. “You’re only looking out for yourse-” The words caught in his throat as his shoulders sagged.

He’d said saving the world was more important than saving Mabel.

“How could I have said that?” Ford ran a hand through his hair. Sure, sacrificing the few to save the many was the hard decision, the type he was used to making.

The decision that had no heart in it at all.

His mind still argued that it was true, that saving the world had to come before everything else, his heart thumping out a painful tune in anger at the thoughts with every beat.

Yet here he was, saving his brother first.

And he knew if he could turn back time he’d still do the same again.

Because just like Dipper had said, he couldn’t imagine a world worth living in without his twin anymore.

The image of Mabel smiling brightly flashed into his mind along with the thought that nothing else mattered but protecting that smile. The same smile he remembered on his brother before everything went to hell.

_“Tick tock sixer, save the world or save the family? You won’t be able to do both-”_

Well if it came down to it, he guessed he’d made his decision now.

Maybe it was selfish to put his family first.

But where had putting everything else above his family gotten him so far?

With the new resolve he tried to ignore the now familiar rewind, instead taking in everything outside of it that hadn’t been moving. Waiting for something to tip him off that his brother was nearby and waiting for him.

A shiver went down his spine, his heart racing as his eyes landed back on his own ruthless glare that was leveled at his brothers prone body.

This version hadn’t even tried to stop him falling.

“Why on _earth_ would he want a _worthless_ thing like you?”

Ford almost blinked and missed it. The moment his image had spoken the word ‘worthless’ his eyes had flickered yellow for barely a second.

He couldn’t help it, his mind had latched on to the notion that Bill had made this version of him to poison his brother and he found himself launching at it, picking up Stan’s discarded bat as he passed it.

The bat had connected with Bill before, he had no doubts it would this time.

The reward for his certainty in Stan’s method was a sudden sense of accomplishment as the figure cracked under the impact and fractured into dust. It fueled him on, the warming knowledge that he could literally battle Stan’s demons and would do so until Stan could do it himself.

“I need to get out of he-” Ford’s voice faltered, seeing the Mystery Shack as he turned to find an escape route to Stan.

Of course, it was a safe haven. He had made it so when he’d put the barrier around it. He knew he’d mentioned it only in passing to Stan, not really seeing the point of him knowing but Mabel had been so excited to tell him about her adventure he was sure Stan had paid attention to her more than to his own rendition of what the barrier did.

So it was only safe to assume that if Stan was also in this world he had thought the same as Ford had just done and upon realising there was nowhere else to run from his mind had decided to seek refuge there. Had decided to hide instead of continue the fruitless endeavour.

As Ford took a step towards it, the shack rewarded him, opening it’s door invitingly, as if it approved of his thoughts.

He didn’t let the thoughts fester, didn’t let doubt take over him and wonder whether it was a trap as he raced towards it and dove through the door as if in fear it would close before he got there.

The door snapped shut behind him, the light from outside suddenly cut off and plunging the room into pitch black before he could take in any details.

“Stan?” His voice wavered, uncertainty creeping over him.

Nothing responded from the darkness.


	13. The Last Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I left you guys on a cliffhanger for so long but I kind of got ill ^^;; Ended up Wednesday really really woozy I assume because I haven't been sleeping well and ended up with the room spinning at points...then I felt better yesterday but came home from work and crashed for 10-11 hours @.@ Had today off so I thought I better get this out to you lovely people before I crashed again. It's not even 9pm and I'm already tired out again.
> 
> Good news is I've got my laptop back though! And this chapter is longer than usual - had to cut it in hald again though because it was getting too big ♥ But the next one will be the last/epilogue
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Please shout if anything doesn't make sense, I'm worried my brains not with it XD

“Stan?”

Ford licked his lips and tried again. There was a small warning bell ringing in his head. The joke between them whenever he and his brother used to watch old horror movies festering in his mind. There were two things you should never do in a horror movie they had decided.

One; under no circumstances should you ever split up.

Two; don’t call out for someone when you know something dangerous could be around to hear you instead.

Ford shook himself. This was no time to get cold feet. This was Stan’s mindscape. As warped and fractured as Bill had made it he didn’t think anything here would _actually_ hurt him.

Then again he wouldn’t actually be all that surprised if Stan punched him at the very least.

But he hadn’t yet so he could only assume that was progress.

The darkness pushed on him suddenly making him shudder. Ford couldn’t see his hands in front of his face, couldn’t squint through the darkness to make out any shapes at all. He had no idea how large or small the room was and it was closing in on him. His ears were strained, as if the loss of one sense had increased another 10 fold.

It was with this increased awareness that he heard what could be whispers. But they were so quiet and constant all he could hear was a buzzing hiss circulating the room.

It was a small whimper that sounded above the whispers that snapped him back to attention. He shielded his face with one arm whilst he brought the other up and focused on creating a ball of light in his palm. Even with his sleeve as a shield he still cringed, his eyes adjusting painfully to the onslaught as the light bloomed.

He let his arm drop, raising the other higher to cast the light further. He jumped back as he saw a figure within reaching distance, cursing to himself that the darkness had left him that unguarded. He licked his lips, focusing on the back in front of him, the familiar slope of his shoulders. “Stan?” He grabbed the shoulder and turned him round.

Only to flinch away again when he realised it wasn’t Stan. “Of course it’s not.” On hindsight the similarities and differences were only too easy to spot.

The thing in front of him wasn’t his brother, but a clone of himself. It’s eyes reflected the light from Ford’s palm, glowing a sickly yellow as it grinned toothily at him.

_“Useless.”_

Ford blinked at the thing as it hissed at him before turning back away. “What?” He shuffled around the figure, trying hard not to be within it’s reaching distance in case it suddenly changed it’s mind and attacked him. He kept it in his line of sight until he thought he was far enough away and breathed a sigh of relief and started to scope the room out again.

He froze, one foot off the ground until the jarring stop made him fumble for the light slipping out of his hand. He gave a silent prayer of gratitude when the light didn’t dwindle to nothingness before he looked back up with a gulp.

There were _hundreds_ of his clones.

The room was full of them, all staring into the centre. Varying looks ranging from sadistic pleasure to vicious hatred marring their features. Any that faced him reflected the light like cats eyes but it was always the same yellow that he had quickly come to hate.

He took a deep breath. He couldn’t see Stan but it was becoming obvious that the ‘Fords’ were looking towards something important and it didn’t take much of a mental jump to figure that one out. The only problem was he wouldn’t be able to get there without pushing through them and he wasn’t sure how they’d respond to that.

“I’ve come this far. Can’t stop now.” And with this small mantra, he started to push his way through them, growling at the slow pace that he was going. They were solid, more stone than flesh in their consistency the closer he got to the centre. A small theory popped in his head that Bill had finally caught his brother and wasn’t about to let him escape again.

_“Worthless.”_

Ford flinched at the hiss that sounded right next to his ear, pushing the figure that had said it with such force it fell and cracked against the floor. He took a steadying breath, realising all of the figures were whispering, creating the buzz in the room. Poisonous words that he had once said to Stan himself or that Stan had assumed he thought about him.

Or maybe just words that Stan thought about himself.

Either way their words had obviously buckled Stan, the strength behind them in Stan’s mind making the figures themselves impassable. Ford grit his teeth, anger pulsing through him. He could combat that. The strength of his willpower would be stronger than Stan’s doubts even with Bill multiplying them.

“I’m here, Stan.” He forced another few out of the way. “I’m right here, listen to me, OK?”

He felt more bodies give way before him, giving a small sound of victory.

_“Rash moron.”_

Ford hissed back at the figures, a litany of encouragement spewing force to combat their words. “Keep listening to me, Stan. You’re doing fine. Just keep listening to my voi- to me, no other Ford, just me, OK?”

_“You’re such a failure.”_

“No, no you’re not, Stan. You’re not a failure. Look at the kids, the little twins. Would they love you so much if you were a failure?”

_“You ruin everything!”_

“No.” Ford bit his lip to hold back the tears, trying to push through what small gaps there were between the bodies. “You don’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Stan, that you think that! That I ever said anything to-” He almost howled, a mix of pain and frustration as the bodies turned solid once more around him, crushing him between them so he couldn't progress further into the room.

Stan still didn’t believe in his apologies.

He’d been _so close_ to getting through to him.

_“Some brother you turned out to be!”_

“Stan, please, please keep listening to me.” Ford felt himself begging, knew that this probably wasn’t the best thing to do. It wasn’t like him. Stan wouldn’t trust it. Well, he’d just have to make him. “You really think Bill would go to this much trouble to trick you? W-why would he need to, look around you. He doesn’t need to trick you anymore, he’s got you surrounded!” The words felt terrible on his tongue, like he was berating his brother for getting into this situation but he didn’t know how else to approach it. “W-we need to get out of here, Stan.” He closed his eyes, hating that he had to say the next sentence, however true it was, all because Stan wouldn’t believe the other truths he was trying to get across to him.

“Stan, the twins. Mabel, Dipper, they _need_ us! I can’t save them without you.” Ford couldn’t stop the tears this time, the bodies loosening considerably around him to the point that he almost fell forward. He didn’t stop to process it though, in case Stan changed his mind, propelling himself forward even as his heart broke.

Stan couldn’t believe that he had come to the mindscape just to rescue him. He could only believe Ford had ulterior motives for doing so.

Ford didn’t let the thought crush him into a hopeless ball like it wanted to. Still pushed forward relentlessly, shouting his words to be heard above everything else until his heart leapt into his throat as he saw a familiar fez at knee height in front of him. He carried on pushing through to the last figures, finding a small circle of empty space right in the centre of the room.

Stan sat in this circle, head pushed into his knees so as not to see anything around him, his arms tight around his legs as if he could hide from it all in the darkness of the room, making himself as small as possible as his shoulders shock, wracked with silent sobs.

He wasn’t succeeding very well.

“ _Stan_.” Ford jumped into the empty space, crouching in front of his twin who still adamantly refused to look up. “Stan, please, it’s me. I promise it’s the real me. I’m not a trick, not a construct of Bill’s to lure you away. I-” He stuttered, his arms fidgeting awkwardly at his sides in his panic as Stan ignored him. “Please, I _need_ you, Stan. I can’t do this alone.” His voice cracked in a way that it hadn’t since they were kids. “I’ve hurt you so much and I don’t know what to do to mend it. How do I fix all this? You know how I work; logic, science, those things make sense to me. But I don’t get this, _I don’t know what to do, Stan. I don’t know how to help you._ ” He waited for something, any sign of recognition from his brother but nothing came. A small bubble of hope blossomed though as he realised the room was quieter, many of the figures no longer hissing words of hatred. With that in mind he continued, his voice betraying the sad smile on his face; quieter, more reserved. “You were the one who knew how to deal with emotions, how to calm someone down or make them feel 10 feet tall. You always have the right words to say at the right time. Or-” Ford gave an ironic chuckle. “How to get yourself in trouble if you felt like that you’d get the most enjoyment out of that at that particular moment.” His hand came up, hesitantly, scared that he’d send his brother scarpering away again if he touched him. “I guess that’s what comes from having to survive on your own for so long.” His voice went quieter still, the guilt flowing through it at the knowledge of everything that had happened because he’d made his brother homeless all those years ago. “You’re so strong, Stan, you can beat this.” The determination in his voice grew, his hand reaching out and taking his brother’s shoulder, smiling victoriously when it wasn’t shaken off even if the muscles under his fingers froze at the contact. “I can’t believe I never saw how strong you are, bro.”

There was still no reply from his brother, the hope in Ford’s heart bursting enough for him to break down entirely. He still had enough sense in his mind to avoid Stan’s injured shoulder but encased him in a hug nonetheless, the ball of light rolling uselessly away from him. But he didn’t care, wouldn’t have cared if the room had been swallowed up by darkness again while he held his brother close.

All he knew was that his brother needed him and he would do anything to get a response, to stop the guilt eating away at him. To protect him from anything and everything if he could hear the laugh, see the smile that he ached to have in person instead of in a lost and distant memory.

He’d do anything just to hear Stan’s voice and know that this wasn’t all a lost cause.

“You-you’re not-” Ford choked, hating that the tears were stopping him from continuing with words in a coherent manner and that he could feel Stan’s shoulders still shaking underneath him. He ran his hands up and down Stan’s back, trying to soothe it all away. “You’re not w-worthless. You’re not stupid or rash and y-you’re certainly not a failure, do you he-hear me?” He hiccupped, closing his eyes as he leant his head on Stan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” He felt him shake harder under him and tightened his hold, making sure he couldn’t get away. Scared that his apology was spooking him again. “You’re my brother, Stan. I love you.” He felt the body stop shaking beneath him and gave a sigh of relief, relaxing his hold and still mumbling into his brother’s shoulder. “I should have told you that sooner. I should have said it to you every chance I got, because I do, Stan. I know that we fight and argue and all of that but I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Ford gave a little wheezing sob as he pushed himself back, Stan’s head still pressed into his knees. His heart broke at the rejection but he still squeezed his brother’s shoulders nonetheless. His voice became bitter with the years of guilt and grief now weighing down on him. “I know you don’t believe me. But I’m sorry, Stan. I really am. For everything. And I would understand if you could never forgive me for that.”

“What are you talking about, Sixer?”

Ford jumped, his heart in his throat as the quiet words came muffled against Stan’s trousers. “What?”

“I said, what are you talking about?” Stan finally raised his head, Ford stifling another sob though his whole body shook with the effort. “Why on earth would I need to forgive _you_? It’s me that ruins everythi-”

“ _No_.” Ford hissed darkly before cringing at the flinch it caused in Stan. He didn’t lean forward this time, instead deciding to pull Stan into a hug, making him rest against him. “No, d-don’t. Don’t say that. You don’t ruin everything. You try your hardest for everyone bar yourself all the time and I won’t hear another word against you, even from yourself, do you hear me?”

“But-”

“But what?” Ford kept him close, finding it easier to talk with Stan close to his heart, hoping he could hear it pounding in tandem to his words. “Because I didn’t get into a stupid fancy college? There were always other colleges and you would have been proud of me for getting into any one of them. I shouldn’t have let the principle and our parents talk about you the way they did either, you had a future too but they made it sound like you didn’t.” He licked his lips, continuing, watching with an avid curiosity as the light he had dropped bloomed brighter, the clones shifting away from it as if it burned. He wasn’t doing that, so he only hoped it was Stan subconsciously. “For knocking me into the portal? Maybe if I’d sat down and explained everything to you, we wouldn’t have ended up fighting like we did. I could have turned the god damn thing off as well. You know, _the smart option_. I’m meant to think of things like that.” He jostled his brother, grinning widely at the small hysterical trickle of laughter his words had caused. The closest clones started to melt away into yellow as the light touched them, the others still jostling for their place but unwilling to step closer and meet the same fate.

Ford pushed his brother upright, rubbing the tear tracks from his face and making sure he was looking him in the eye. He smiled, glad when Stan hesitantly returned the favour. “For saving me after 30 years of hard work from that same portal? Because you did Stan, I might have been angry at the time. Terrified of the ripple effect that that might hav-”

“That it _did_ have.”

Ford raised an eyebrow as Stan spoke, watching the sheepish look on his face as he shut his mouth with a snap. Well if he was answering back it was a start to having his brother back, he guessed. “Alright, that it did have. But you weren’t to know about that. Again if I’d just told you 30 years ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all! And you would have still have tried to save me.” Ford smiled again, holding a hand under Stan’s chin to keep him looking at him. “You cared too much about saving me to care about whatever consequences it could have. How can I stay mad at you for that?” He gulped as Stan continued to stare at him, his expression unreadable. “S-so, will you forgive me for – well, for being me, I guess? For not thanking you for saving me. For not giving you all the details because I didn’t think you’d understand. For not noticing what you went-” His words caught in his throat as Stan launched himself at him, finally reciprocating the hugs he’d been giving him.

“Of course I forgive you, Poindexter. I just wanted my brother back all this time!”

Ford encased him once more. “I’m sorry for taking this long to come back then.”

They sat for a moment before Ford broke them apart again. They would have more time for this later, when they were in the real world. But now there was still the issue of dealing with Stan’s demons. He tried not to reciprocate the whine that Stan made as he pulled away from him, his fists tightening into his sleeves. “Shh, I’m not going anywhere without you, Stan. But we do need to get going. The kids need us.” Those words had Stan’s hold loosening enough for him to stand up.

Ford gripped his brother’s hand, pulling him to his feet where he swayed precariously for a moment. Stan looked around, wincing as the voices grew in power again until Ford shook the hand he was holding, grabbing his attention.

Stan looked up, his brother smirking at him with a knowing look. “I think your signature move will work best right now.” When Stan continued to stare at him in confusion, Ford sighed endearingly, still smiling, before taking both of Stan’s hands in his. He encased them entirely so that Stan couldn’t see what he was doing until a familiar solid heaviness overtook his knuckles. When Ford’s hands let go, a shining gold gleamed across both hands.

Ford gave a loud laugh, keeping the positive energy bouncing through him as he took his gun from its holster and positioned himself at Stan’s back, providing a constant line of contact and hopefully the steady presence that spoke volumes. _I’ll watch your back._ “Come on Knucklehead, punch your way out! We can’t leave here until every one of these has been banished to whatever hole they came out of.”

The answering crack of knuckles that followed his words added to his grin.

“Overwhelming odds against us? Back to back in a final act of rebellion?” He could hear the vicious smile in his brothers voice, feel it reverberate through their contact.

“Sounds like my kind of fight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I wanted to call this 'hug it out' but that would have been too easy to see what would happen ;p
> 
> Also we've finally got to the scene that sparked this entire fic. Now I can throw up the lovely artwork from pinesinthewoods tumblr that made this whole fic happen! 
> 
> http://pinesinthewoods.tumblr.com/post/131126702710/youre-not-stupid-or-worthless-or-a-failure - please go check it out and give it some love ♥


	14. Epilogue: Face the World, Head Held High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! The last chapter. Wow this has been so much fun.  
> I want to thank everyone who has left lovely comments! Who have bookmarked and left kudos, the support has been overwhelming.  
> I've had over 50 new followers on tumblr o.o I mean that's as many as I've had the entire time I've had the writing blog! I think I've had more notes this month than the entirity of it as well XD
> 
> Again thanks to pinesinthewoods for sparking this!

“Eww, this is revolting.” Ford shook his head as his gun tore through another clone, the yellow goo that the others had melted into splattering across his face in thick globules. The room had emptied rapidly as they worked, the more confident Stan got, the weaker the demons had become until only a handful of resilient vicious ones remained. He shook his head, rubbing at his glasses with his sleeve to remove what he could. He whined in disgust as he instead smeared the gunk, blurring his vision entirely into a sticky haze of yellow. “Oh for the love of-”

A fist in his hair shoving him downwards silenced him and knocked his breath away in one swift motion. He struggled as soon as the shock wore off, a jolt of panic running through him that something had caught him unaware.

“Don’t let your guard down!”

Ford glanced up as the hand released him, watching over his glasses as a blurry figure stumbled back from him, hands still outstretched as if to tear at him, before melting away, the gleam of Stan’s knuckledusters visible in his peripheral. “Whoops...” He found himself sheepish in the wake of Stan’s protective yet angry tone. He had heard that tone of voice before but never focussed on him, nor ever expected it to be. If he remembered correctly it was the voice Stan had used when shouting at the twins to hide away from the zombies infesting the shack.

“I thought you’d gotten better at this fighting stuff, Poindexter.” Stan’s voice held a fake edge of humour to it that Ford could see straight through. A twinge of fear and concern wrapped up in endearing annoyance which sent a pang through Ford’s chest.

Was he really that easily forgiven?

Of course he was.

Stan always gave him a chance.

“Yeah, well I couldn’t carry on shooting blindly. Could have hit you.” Ford stood back up with a wobble, a small spark of happiness bubbling up when he felt hands on his shoulders steadying him.

“Sorry for the manhandling, didn’t know what else to do.”

“Heh, I’m not complaining, those things were vicious.” Ford gripped the gun in his hand, still blurrily looking around. “Are we…?” It was odd, after everything that they had just said and done that he was now finding it a struggle to find words.

“Done? Well, all the weird…you’s are gone if that’s what you’re asking.” Stan’s hands fell from Ford’s shoulders back to his sides. “So I guess?”

Ford sighed, relief running through him that the fighting was over but feeling the need to clarify. “Well I’m glad that bits over but that’s not exactly what I was asking. A step in the right direction though.” He stayed where he was, finding it suddenly easier to talk with his back to Stan. At least knocking down Stan’s demons had helped ease the tension he felt about this mindscape. “How do you…feel, I guess? Bill ran rampant through your mind and you’re only going to be able to wake up if you feel in control of it all again.” He waited, his stomach plummeting when he didn’t get a response. “Stan?” He turned towards him, worried he’d said the wrong thing.

Before quickly dodging the fist that came towards him.

Ford fell to the floor, arms up ready to defend against the biting metal. He blinked up at his brother whose fist was still raised, poised in a fighting stance. “OK…pretty sure I would have deserved that but…what _exactly_ was that for?”

“Your eyes are yellow.”

Ford blinked a few more times, drawing a blank at his words before it hit him like a hammer. “Oh.” He raised one arm slowly, the other up placatingly as soon as Stan shifted at his movements. “Easy, easy, I’m just going to remove my glasses, OK?” He waited but Stan didn’t seem to respond so he sighed and did it anyway, trying not to flinch in anticipation of the hit. Instead he kept his eyes trained on Stan even though he was still too blurry to see any expression, gesturing his glasses at him in the hopes he’d train his eyes on them. “One of the things splattered on me, that’s all. See, no yellow eyes.” He flinched as the glasses disappeared from his grasp without him noticing Stan moving.

“Oh.” Stan knelt in front of him, pushing his glasses back into place once they were clean with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, Sixer. Thought for a second it had all been one big trick…”

Ford snorted, adjusting his glasses with a smile. “Yeah well, I’m happy your first response was to punch me then considering. I’ll take that as progress that Bill’s not got you-” He shut his mouth with a snap. How was he meant to end that sentence? That Bill’s not got you running away from your problems? Not got you curled up scared and crying? Wasn’t exactly the best pep talk he could give at this particular moment. “Anyway, I’m just glad you’re back to normal, Knucklehead.”

“I still think you’re a figment though.”

Ford raised an eyebrow at him, good-naturedly. “Oh yeah? You think you could imagine all this up?” He gestured to himself, battered, bruised and covered in a substance he was really trying hard not to think about. Stan snorted, making him grin again and look back over to his brother’s shaking head. He didn’t look any better than Ford, if anything his close range style of fighting meant more of the clones had gotten close enough to land a hit. But the way he was holding himself made Ford relax. His back was straight, his eyes gleaming like he hadn’t had that much fun in years. Like the smog had finally cleared and the monsters of the past were back where they were meant to be.

They’d gotten through this. His brother had fought off Bill’s control.

Sure the recovery would probably take a lot longer to go through once the adrenaline had worn off. When they could both sit down and really think about everything he was sure things would crawl back out of the woodwork.

But at least this time they’d both be around for the recovery.

Ford could only predict when it came to Stan but he could already tell he’d be checking up on his brother a lot more after this was all said and done.

“So you really came to get me?”

Ford focussed back in as Stan stared at him, a bemused smile on his face that made him frown. “Well, yeah, of course I did.” He let Stan drag him back up to a standing position, watching his face intently. His heart sank at what he saw mirrored back at him. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Stan shrugged. “I have my doubts. Either way, I kind of like this dream. You know, now that it’s not a nightmare and all.”

“Sta-”

“If you get hurt in this world, does it follow through to the real one?”

“What? No.” Ford’s frown grew, completely thrown for a loop with his brother’s actions. “That doesn’t matter. Stan, I’m right here, I came to get you.”

“Guess there’s only one way to know if you’re telling the truth.”

“Stan? You’re worrying me.”

“Time to wake up, Poindexter.”

Ford’s eyes widened as a fist collided with his face, cracking him back away from his brother.

“We’ve got the kids to save.”

 

* * *

 

Ford woke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright as the last words Stan had said ran through his head. He rubbed the side of his face, the phantom pain of metal clashing against his teeth and bone making him shudder.

His brother had a mean right hook.

A groan beside him pulled him out of his self-pity as his brother woke up groggily next to him. “What the hell was that for?”

It was Stan’s turn to sit up suddenly as the grogginess of sleep left him at Ford’s voice. He stared at him in a moment of silence before cursing under his breath. “Holy sh- it _was_ you.”

Ford gave him an appraising look, still rubbing his face without thinking about it. “…nice punch.” He bit back the other things he wanted to say. The disappointment that Stan hadn’t believed in him as much as he thought he had. The dribble of resentment. All of it had been quelled quickly and easily by the little nagging voice that had started to keep him company since he’d entered Stan’s head.

_Can you really blame him?_

Stan winced in sympathy, coming straight over to him to pull his hand away and check his cheek over. “You said it wouldn’t affect you in the real world.”

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting you to punch me.” Ford gave him a playful shove. “It’s fine, just feels weird to be honest.” He opened his jaw wide, rubbing a hand over it as he moved it. “Never been forcefully ejected from the mindscape with a punch before, that’s all.”

“First time for everything.” Stan grinned at him, satisfied there was no lasting damage before sitting back on his heels.

Ford grinned back at him, both of them glad for the silent moment in each other’s presence that didn’t feel awkward or aggravating like any of the others they’d shared since he’d returned through the portal.

He was sure there would be twists and turns in the path that lay ahead of them. The cracks in their relationship were still there but they had started the healing process.

“How’s your shoulder?” Ford broke the moment reluctantly, his newly found protective instincts taking over as he pushed himself up and sat behind Stan to take a look at the burn that had caused all of this mess in the first place. He gave a small sympathetic noise in the back of his throat when he pulled some of the suits fabric away. The burn was freshly branded into his flesh, no longer a distant scar though he didn’t know why he was surprised at that. He guessed he’d just hoped that all his actions would have gotten rid of the thing entirely. Ford’s hand rested a few centimetres above it, unwilling to touch it and cause him more pain as the guilt that he had felt earlier washed over him again. A burn was a burn, no matter how supernatural the symbol. His actions had had consequences that they both had to live with. “Stan-”

“It’s fine.” Stan shook him off, looking over his shoulder at him, his eyes determined. “No apologies. We’ve both done a lot of stupid things. I know it was an accident. Hell, you wouldn’t have come looking for me if it wasn’t. Besides, the kids need us out there. We’ve wasted enough time on me.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve seen to this. Take off the jacket.” Ford gave him a look that dared him to argue before checking his watch. Stan’s words had set him on edge but a glance down made him laugh.

“…Ford?”

He looked back up at Stan’s concerned expression before shaking his head and going to grab a first-aid kit, shouting as he did so. “Almost no time at all has passed. Things run slower in the mindscape. I just found it funny that-” His voice caught again as he stepped back into the room, Stan watching him carefully. “I mean, there were so many things that I…saw…” Ford winced as Stan continued to watch him mutely. This was not the best moment to talk about what he’d seen. “ _Anyway_ , you aren’t going anywhere until I know for a fact that Bill can’t just hijack your mind again. So just sit still and let me patch you up.” His words were still met with silence that made him nervous. “…Please?”

Stan nodded, shuffling over to the sofa to prop himself up against its side so that Ford could sit above him and have the best angle. “I’m sure I could take him on now though.” He muttered, his fists ahead of him, punching at an unseen enemy. “I’d just-” He made a quick jab forward, grinning, letting his head flop back onto the sofa to look at Ford. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Ford humoured him, sitting behind him to clean it all up, pushing his head back up and out of the way. Muttering apologies as Stan shifted in pain at every touch to the wound.

“It’s alright, just get it done quickly so we can go.” The words came through gritted teeth.

“Hey, I’m looking after this burn properly, no infections this time round.”

Stan turned to him as if to give a scathing response but the burn drew his attention away. “Huh.”

“Huh? ‘huh’ what?”

“It’s…different.”

“What?” Ford pulled the cloth he was cleaning it with away, staring down at it. He hadn’t seen the marking in years so it looked the same to him. “How can you tell?”

“Sixer, I’ve seen this thing every time I look in the mirror for 30 years.” Stan rolled his eyes before tracing over it with a finger. “This line her- ow, this line was never there before.”

Ford slapped his hand away as he prodded at the burn. “Stop it, idiot, you’re hurting yourself.” He took another look himself though, noting the diagonal line that traversed the symbol before getting on with his work and bandaging it up.

“So, does that mean we’re in the clear?”

“I think so.” Ford, looked at his handiwork before raising an eyebrow at his twin. “Like anything I say will stop you running out that door the minute you get a chance anyway.”

“Damn ri-” Stan’s words were cut off by a shrill ringing that made them both jump out of their skins. He watched Ford flail around for a second, panicking to turn the noise off on his watch before it carried on for too long. “Was that an alarm?” His words were quiet, calm, his heart thudding in his chest as he waited for a response.

Ford froze, glancing down at his brother’s locked up expression. He gulped as the alarm stopped ringing, the silence engulfing him. “I- Oh god, this looks so bad. I’m so sorry.” He’d put a _deadline_ on saving his twin. What kind of person did that? “I didn’t want to leave the kids for too long.” He closed his eyes in annoyance at himself, one hand gripping the sofa, the other going to pinch the bridge of his nose. This apology was spiralling, he was digging himself into a hole he couldn’t get out of. But he could admit that the ‘him’ before he went in to save Stan seemed like a completely foreign entity to himself now. “I’m sorry. I was being my usual jerk of a self when I set it.” He gave a self-depreciating laugh, trying not to cry. A hand resting over his on the sofa made him force his eyes open, his hands coming together around Stan’s as he locked eyes with him. Willing him to believe every word. “But I would have come back in for you. I wouldn’t have left you there. No matter what. Not after- not after what I saw.” He waited for a second but stuttered out further when Stan continued to stare at him, his expression unreadable. “God tha-that’s terrible, isn’t it? I’m terrible.”

Stan continued to watch him for a few more moments before his expression softened. He punched Ford in the arm, a bit harder than necessary maybe but meant in good sport, his expression clearing entirely. “Good. I mean if you’d wasted all your time on me and not the kids, I’d have killed you myself when we woke up.” He stood up slowly, rolling his shoulder to check its movement as he shucked his jacket back on over it. “I’m not important especially not when the kids are in danger.” A tug on his sleeve made him glance back down again, his confusion evident on his face. “Ford?”

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again. Of _course_ you’re important.”

Stan blinked down at him for a second before smiling again. “Whatever you say, Ford.”

“ _Stan_.”

“Alright, alright.” Stan’s smile widened, a weight slipping off of him as his brother gave him a concerned look he hadn’t seen in years. He was oddly touched. “I won’t say it again, happy?” He waited until Ford’s expression grew less pained. He knew if he let him Ford would hold on to the issue. They’d be here for hours that they didn’t have. He patted himself down, glad when he noted out of the corner of his eye that he’d distracted his brother just enough to lose that particular trail of thought. With a small yell of triumph he slipped his newly found knuckledusters on his fists before turning back to his brother.

Stan cracked his knuckles before holding a hand out for his brother. He chuckled as the man leant back a bit at the sudden movement. It was always good fun to keep the smart guy on his toes. Being unpredictable was his best strength. “So, _Poindexter_ , ready to show them what the original Pine twins are made of?”

Ford stared at his hand for barely a moment, his face mirroring the identical determined smirk on Stan’s face as he grabbed it and pulled himself up, his other hand clapping Stan on the back.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, _Knucklehead_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! :3 wow that was a ride~
> 
> I might do a sequel~ Depends how the weirdmaggedon actually goes, you know? Them meeting up with Dipper/Mabel
> 
> I'm thinking about doing some oneshots at least though - maybe Ford and Stan actually having a heart to heart after saving the world is all over. I have a few little cute ideas~
> 
> For now though I'm thinking I might do a mystery trio fic if anyone is interested?
> 
> Or doing prompts/commissions idk~ I don't know how fic commissions work or if anyone would be interested in my writing anyway ^^;;
> 
> If anyone would like to read some original works of mine though please check out impishnature.tumblr.com for my books? ^^ I thought I'd try some self-publishing.
> 
> Anyway, apologies for the self promotion there ♥ Have a lovely evening everyone~ I hope to natter with you soon over a new fic.
> 
> Imp out x


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